In a New World
by StormyRebel
Summary: During a major invasion of the Burning Legion, a small population of races, lead by the sin'dorei Esmera Sunflower of the Sunflower family, escapes destruction by creating a portal to another world. Now in a new world unfamiliar to them, they try to find their place and preserve their culture. Takes place before the Hobbit. Sequal will lead to OC/Legolas.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Summary:** During a major invasion of the Burning Legion, a small population of races, lead by the sin'dorei Esmera Sunflower of the Sunflower family, escapes destruction by creating a portal to another world. Now in a new world unfamiliar to them, they try to find their place and preserve their culture. They discover that they are not the only races in this new world… and that not all of the other races are good. LotR/WoW crossover, starts before LotR and the Hobbit. Sequel will eventually lead to Tenth Walker story, with OC/Legolas.

**Author's Notes:** Hello there, this is StormyRebel. This story has been floating in my mind for some time, and I finally decided to write it down on paper. This story will not be my main concern for the moment, but it could become in the future. So while I can't promise anywhere near regular updates, I will try my best.

Now, I will be the first to admit that while I quite like LotR and LotR!fanfiction, I'm by no means the biggest fan. On the other hand, I would say that I know quite a bit about World of Warcraft, and especially the elven lore. I have been wanting to write a WoW fanfiction for some time now, and when this idea popped into my head, it was perfect.

I will try my best to write it so you won't need to know much about World of Warcraft… but some things will be needed to be known beforehand, especially in the first couple of chapters. But I'm also ready to answer questions either by review or PM, so don't hesitate if there is something you don't know.

Now, this story will completely take place in the Lord of the Rings universe, but the main character will be a blood elf from Azeroth, of course. It will be about this group of races – and, no, not all Azerothian races are represented – try to find a place to live in this new world, and eventually their participation in the war of the ring. I hope I will be able to write this well, as I have high hopes for it.

Oh, and while the story will start before the Hobbit, and therefore also be going while the Hobbit is going on, I won't delve too much into that, as I don't know much about the Hobbit. That can change, of course, but as of now there are no plans other than a mention. I guess I can split the story up in two parts; first where they have just entered Arda and try to find their bearings, and second where they build their new 'kingdom'.

A sequal will be made (this story won't be that long, just setting the background for the Azerothians in Arda), which will contain both the Hobbit (though I won't interfere with that story) and Lord of the Rings

Anyway, I hope you'll like it!

**Prologue**

* * *

Esmera Sunflower knew that the Horde and the Alliance wouldn't be the best of friends, or even friends, any time soon. In fact she theorized that it would take a few decades, if not a few elven generations without conflict for that to happen – but given the vastly different cultures, that most likely wasn't going to happen. However, even when the two factions were at odds with each other, both would acknowledge the other's strength; after all, if they couldn't acknowledge that the enemy that they had been fighting for over a decade wasn't strong, what could be said about their own strength? And it would happen from time to time, that the two mighty factions would band together – however temporarily – to fight an even stronger enemy.

Esmera knew this because of the ten years she had spend in the Horde armies. She had interacted extensively with all the races of the 'barbaric' factions and their leaders, and had had more than a few conversations with the Alliance, too. If Esmera was honest with herself, she felt neither extreme loyalty to the Horde, nor did she hate the Alliance as so many of the orcs did. What she did feel loyal towards was Quel'Thalas, her land of birth and home. And Quel'Thalas was currently part of the Horde for survival, so she would fight by the Horde as long as the leaders of the sin'dorei told her to.

And fight she had. Esmera knew that she hadn't had a true break from the fighting – in one form or another –, since the Scourge Invasion and the culling of her race. Back then, of course, she was just an apprentice, still learning the arcane arts. She had been one of the lucky few survivors, mainly because she had been at the school on Sunstrider Isle – not many near the center of their kingdom had survived the onslaught of the death knight Arthas and his undead army. After that damned human had tainted the Sunwell to such a degree that it had to be shut down – resulting in the collapse of much of the remaining infrastructure –, and the remaining survivors had been gathered, she and other students (not only of the arcane arts) had been deployed to look for survivors while gathering the corpses of their dead brethren and burn their corpses with arcane fire, before they could rise again. The more seasoned then quel'dorei, now sin'dorei, had been sent to kill off any remaining scourge, and any trolls that would take the chance now that they were weakened.

It was in the third week after the Invasion that she found out that none other of the Sunflower family had survived. Esmera didn't have any siblings, and her parents were aged even by elven standards, but she had had cousins, aunts, and uncles. They were all gone now… She had visited the Sunflower estate when she along with a few others had been sent to search for survivors at Fairbreeze Village. Both the village and the Sunflower estate were in ruins. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, she didn't find the corpses of her parents. She found the corpse of her only twenty-year old cousin, who had only just learned to talk, and the corpse of her favorite great-aunt.

The Sunflower family wasn't influential politically, but it was old and people knew the name – it was respected. It had bred uncountable generations of scholars, mages, priests, and even the odd farstriders. And while it wasn't as rich as some of the old families up in Silvermoon, because of its age, the Sunflower family didn't struggle financially, and had its fair share of heirlooms – almost all of which had been destroyed, alongside the estate. Esmera did find a few family tomes, and, surprisingly, a silver hair ornament with a decent-sized sapphire. Since then, she hadn't been back at the estate. It was too painful.

It had taken two years before they had established a territory around the ruins of Silvermoon City and Sunstrider Isle, and another two years to retake all of Everson Woods and begin the rebuilding of their society. It was also during this time that their race took up a new name: sin'dorei, or 'blood elves', in honor of their fallen brethren. During the rebuilding much was changed, and it couldn't be said that it was the same society that rose from the ashes of the old. Not many minded, as almost every single one of the elves were thirsty for revenge, and was willing to do almost anything to receive it. Some, however, did mind, and was scared off, retaken the name of quel'dorei – High Elves –, shunning the new ways of the sin'dorei.

It would be four more years before Esmera Sunflower joined the Horde army. After taking down one of the traitors that gave Arthas access to the Sunwell, the leader of the sin'dorei on Azeroth – Lor'themar Theron –, sent Esmera as one of the sin'dorei champions to help out the Horde, and showing them the might of their race.

It didn't take long for others to realize the potential Esmera had in the Army, and that was only made that more clear after within a year, she had participated in the slaying of several dangerous enemies, that culminated in not only barring off another invasion from the Burning Legion, but also the reignition of the Sunwell. This gave her a war-hero status within both the Horde, and to a degree the Alliance. In the coming years her name would only become more and more known, as she went to Northrend and slayed the very man that had caused her race so much pain, and after the Shattering of the world, helped the Dragon Aspects kill off Deathwing, effectively saving the whole of Azeroth from destruction.

In the next four years, she was an instrumental figure within the Horde, especially after the discovery of Pandaria, and the revolution within the Horde. The revolution culminated with the Siege of Orgrimmar, with which conclusion Vol'jin of the Darkspear Trolls became the new Warchief. What more, Garrosh, the former Warchief, in his death throttles revealed that his merge with one of the Old Gods gave him insight to when the Burning Legion would attack Azeroth again – within the next five years. It had been a wakeup-call for both the Horde and Alliance, and a truce was put down – at least until the ordeal with the Burning Legion had been dealt with.

Esmera, having seen firsthand what the Burning Legion was capable of, and well knowing that Azeroth hadn't been hit with their full strength, went to Lor'themar Theron with a plan. If the Burning Legion should win, then all of Azeroth would surely be destroyed, and everything that made the races what they were, would be gone with it. Esmera suggested that they collect as many cultural artifacts, magical and no, and together with a group of people numbered in the hundreds, fled from Azeroth. That way, if the Burning Legion should win, all would not be lost. Lor'themar Theron, seeing the wisdom in the plan, approved of it.

So for the next two years, while a group of sin'dorei mages, Kirin Tor mages, and members of the Blue Dragonflight tried to create a spell that would open a portal to another world, Esmera traveled all over Azeroth trying to convince the leaders that this was the right way to go. Far fewer than Esmera would have hoped for listened. In the end, the expedition that would assure the survival of Azerothian culture primarily contained sin'dorei and quel'dorei, the second largest group of a single race being the draenei, then a few dozen kaldorei, and finally a few tauren, pandaren, and dwarves. Even fewer artifacts, outside those of sin'dorei culture, was brought – all the leaders, but Velen, leader of the draenei, who knew better than anyone what threat they were against, simply didn't believe they would lose, and therefore didn't want to risk losing the artifact.

The Dragon Aspects had also assigned a few of their number to go with Esmera's expedition. Four of each of the remaining aspects would go with them, to assure their survival. The Aspects may have lost their power, but it was still their job to protect Azeroth and its people.

The Burning Legion attacked far sooner than anyone had hoped. Barely two years after the Siege of Orgrimmar, the skies of Azeroth began to burn, and several cities were lost in the initial attack. After only a month of fighting, the continents of Kalimdor, Northrend, and Pandaria was lost, while only the northernmost of the Eastern Kingdoms were still in the Azerothians possession. And that was only because of the Sunwell's energies that were used to hide them. It was most fortunate that the people having chosen to go along with Esmera's plan were already at the Sunwell Plateau, since the Sunwell's energies was needed to fuel the spell.

But to cast the portal spell, a focusing iris was needed, and a great strain would be put on the Sunwell… The iris had been lost during the first week of the invasion of the Burning Legion, having been on a shipment from Northrend, and the Sunwell was currently shielding against a demonic legion making it impossible to tap enough energy from it. In the end it was decided to drop the shield while the majority of the remaining forces would stall the Legion long enough for the portal to be opened, and the people to go through it. About two hundred soldiers, still most of them sin'dorei, but now also a few human, worgen, orcs, and trolls with them, would be joining Esmera. And as replacement of the iris would be Esmera.

The plan was successful, and Esmera and the dozen people guarding her were the last people to go through the portal. The last thing Esmera saw on Azeroth was the last wall defending them break down, and dozens of demons rushing through the gaping hole. Fortunately, by then, she had stepped through the portal, and she cut the energy off, collapsing as the strain finally became too much.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hoped you liked the prologue. The rest of the story will entirely be taking place on Arda. While there will be references to places on Azeroth, we won't go there anymore.

Anyway, if you liked the story or have any questions, please review.

Rebel Out


	2. Lost in the New World

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Author's Notes:** While I won't make it a habit of opening up a chapter with an author's notes, I think it is prudent in this case, as some very good questions has been risen in a review by _ww1990wwk._ So, I'll answer them below, after retyping the question:

_Why are there countless magic-users in Azeroth, while only a handful in Middle Earth? Less magic? Magic as a divine privilege, and only they could give it to mortals?_

Well, after a bit of thought, I would think it would have something to do with the First Well of Eternity, and later the Sunwell. Especially the First Well of Eternity; those who would become Night Elves, and later Highborne, learned the arcane arts from studying the Well. Later the High Elves studied it further with the Sunwell, and they taught the humans, who then could have taught other races. Maybe those in Middle Earth _are_ able to learn magic, but just haven't had anyone teaching them? Or maybe the races – which most definitely _are_ different than the races on Azeroth – just don't have the ability to learn the kind of arcane manipulation that the Azerothians have.

_Resurrection. In Azeroth there are quite a few ways to come back from the death. But in Middle Earth? Only one having the permission from the Valars can do that, and I don't see them giving permission for each and every people of this expedition._

To be honest, I have always thought that the ability to resurrect people from the death is purely a game play mechanic. I mean, if it wasn't, why hasn't the large lore characters been resurrected when they died? Why would Varian be so panicked when Anduin got hurt, if he knew that he would just be able to come back from the death? So there won't be _that_ kind of resurrection in this story. That said, there will be some extremely powerful healers in the expedition, especially later on due to something that is going to happen, who will be able to bring someone back from the brink of dead. Mind you, there won't be many of those, but they will be there. But, again, there won't be 'rise the dead' resurrection.

_Power. Quite honestly, it's hard to tell who is more powerful._

That is also a subject I had to think hard on before starting this story. Many of the soldiers of this expedition will be powerful, simply because of their ability to draw on magic. That said, they won't be able to single handedly win the War of the Ring, nor wipe out armies. And while maybe a dozen or more _might_ be able to take down a Maiar, they aren't gods. It is a slippery line I will have to learn to walk while writing this story, so if any of you, my readers, think that they are either becoming too powerful or too weak, please say so and I will take it to heart.

_Racism. More directed towards the 'bastard races' as Trolls, Orcs, and maybe even Draenei. For many people from Middle Earth, the only good orc is a dead orc. I wonder how this new world will react to those races?_

That is surely something I will write about. One thing that you must understand, is that while orcs and trolls bear the same name as some races on Arda, they aren't actually the same races, and don't look like them. Neither Azerothian trolls nor Azerothian orcs shy away from sunlight, and the Azerothian trolls don't turn to stone in sunlight. But there will surely be prejudice towards them – and maybe even the other Azerothians. But in the kingdom/home that the Azerothians will live in, they will all be accepted.

_And finally; the Burning Legion. I hope that you won't bring them to Middle Earth._

I can assure you I won't bring them to Middle Earth. Maybe in a sequel, if there will ever be one, but not in this story. The Burning Legion was simply a way I made it seem plausible and necessary for this expedition to go to a new world, especially with the artifacts they have brought with them.

Anyway, with that answered, I hope you will like the first chapter. If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to contact me either by review or by PM. Enjoy!

**Chapter One:** Lost in the New World

* * *

With arcane magic rolling of her in waves, Esmera slammed the base of her staff into the ground while channeling the energies through it, causing in an enormous blast wave of fire magic to emerge from her. With glowing green eyes hardened by battle and blonde shoulder-length hair fluttering around her face by the force, Esmera watched the five orcs – though, unlike any orcs she had seen in either Azeroth or the Outlands – flew back exclaiming pig-like screams in pain, as flames flickered over their skin and consumed them. The moment she was assured that they would not arise again, and observing that that was the last of the enemies, the tension in her body diminished slightly. This was all it took for the sin'dorei mage to be overcome with dizziness, and she began tipping over in exhaustion. Unlike the orcs, whose charred corpses hit the ground with great force, a pair of arms caught her, almost before the fall had even begun.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, in her native tongue of Thalassian, as the person who had caught her helped her get up on her feet again. With much more energy than it should had taken, Esmera turned to look at the person who had caught her, observing that it was a male draenei. A moment later she recognized him as Javad, a warrior who back on Azeroth had been guarding the Sunwell along with the rest of the Shattered Sun Offensive. Almost as soon as Javad's hands left her, Esmera began falling, and Javad quickly caught her once again. Hating how weak she was at the moment she scowled ferociously, but nodded gratefully at the draenei. "Thank you… again," she said, not bothering switching over to another language, knowing full well that all of the draenei spoke Thalassian well enough due to his position back on Azeroth.

"Are you all right, milady?" Javad asked in his deep voice while helping her over to a makeshift wagon to sit. The former occupants quickly made room for the powerful mage, as one of them – a sin'dorei barely in his teens – offered her a canteen of water. She accepted it with a smile, making the young elf blush before dashing off. Taking a gulp of water, she turned her attention back to the still worried Javad.

"I'm no lady," Esmera told him with a small scowl. And after a small sigh, she continued, "And I should be fine. I just need to rest for a few minutes, and I'll be up and around."

"I beg to differ on both accounts," Javad said to her with a worried frown. "You may not be born into a noble family, but after not only your actions back on Azeroth and in the Outlands – which didn't only save the sin'dorei, but many other races as well –, but now also because of your foresight in devising this plan and gathering this expedition, effectively saving these people from a horrible death at the hands of the Legion… Even more, you assured that the plan didn't fail when the focusing iris was lost by taking its place, and performed a feat of magic not seen before… You are a lady, and that title only barely holds the respect that you deserve." Javad paused to see if the war hero would contradict him, but she didn't.

Esmera wanted to contradict him, but she couldn't: after all, she _had_ done all those things. But she didn't like the title so many seemed to have granted her since they arrived in this new world. She stood firmly in her believes that she was no Lady; she was a soldier, a mage, a scholar, and many more things… but no, she wasn't a lady.

Javad continued, "And as for you being fine: this is the seventh time in the last three weeks that you have collapsed. I know that the sin'dorei are the strongest race when it comes to the arts of the arcane, because of your involvement with the First Well of Eternity and later the Sunwell, and you, personally, even more so because of your involvement with the Blue Dragonflight, but even you are reaching your limit. You and I both know that if you continue like this, you could be very much hurt."

"I know, my friend, but what would you have me do?" Esmera asked calmly. "If I don't fight when we are attacked, others may die!"

"Believe me when I tell you that those who may die, would gladly give up their lives if it means you are not hurt," Javad said gravely. "We are in a world unfamiliar to us, and we need our leader alive and well. I don't think you have seen how much these people respect you, even those formely of the alliance."

"Out here it doesn't matter if we were of the alliance or the horde. After the Burning Legions we are simply Azerothians," Esmera said firmly. And after a glance at Javad, "Even if you originally came from Argus, or Draenor."

"Views like that are one of the reasons people respect you," Javad said smiling. "Do you now understand?"

Esmera sighed again. Emotionally she didn't like it one bit, but logically she knew that it was true. While it hadn't been the plan that she should lead the group like this – at least not alone –, the people here had come to automatically look up to her for leadership and help. She didn't have a clue how to lead a society, but she did know how to lead people. At least until they had found a place to settle, she would lead them. After that, she would help them find someone who would be able to truly lead a society, and she would… She didn't know what she would do after that – right now she was just focusing that there would be an 'after'.

She looked to her right, and thus looking down the large convoy of wagons surrounded by several races – sin'dorei, quel'dorei, draenei, kaldorei, tauren, pandaren, dwarves, human, worgen, trolls, and orcs. There even were a few dragons among them, though all in mortal forms. As far as she knew, because she didn't have the precise numbers, they numbered around seven-hundred individuals. By far the larger part of the people, about seventy percent, were either of sin'dorei and quel'dorei descent. After them the most numerous of a race were the draenei, which were about fifteen percent, and the rest of the races filled out the last fifteen percent. The humans, worgen, trolls, and orcs in particular were small in number, due to none of them having originally joined this expedition, but had been assigned last minute as the Burning Legion had laid siege to the Sunwell Plateau. At last there were only sixteen dragons, four each of the red, blue, yellow, and green aspects – all of them very young by dragon standards, as they were under a millennia old. But she knew that in a century, if they survived, the number of the dragons could have easily risen exponentially.

Right now, in places large column of smokes rose from a few places in the convoy, showing where the orcs had attacked. As far as she could see, the only wagons they had destroyed had contained resources as food, wood, and clothes. While they need them, it would have been much worse if they had attacked one of the wagons containing the magical artifacts, books, or one of the wagons containing the eggs of various animal species, including dragonhawks and hawkstriders. The resources they could replace in time – the artifacts and eggs couldn't be. That was also why there were especially many guards around those wagons.

Esmera turned to Javad, who were also looking out over the convoy, and asked, "Do we have any numbers of causalities of this latest attack?"

"Not yet, no," the warrior shook his head. "I sent a worgen around to make a quick assessment. He will talk with the different captains and commanders, and then return here to give a report to you."

"Good," Esmera nodded. Worgens were fast, especially when they ran on all four. With one of their race taking a look around, she would soon have the numbers. She looked up at Javad, who were still looking at her with a worried frown. "Javad, I promise I will take it easy until I have more energy. Go help someone who truly needs it; we need to get moving as soon as we can."

"Very well," Javad said with a tip of his head. "Just please promise me you won't: I have known you for a while know, and even back at Shattered Sun Offensive you were like this. We need you here, in one piece."

"I promise," Esmera said with a goodhearted roll of her eyes. "On the Sunwell's rays," she promised solemnly. That seemed to convince him, knowing that the Sunwell was one of the holiest things to the sin'dorei, and he nodded before walking down the convoy, helping where he could.

Sighing again, the mage looked to her left, to where they were headed. In the distance, just above the horizon, rose mighty mountains. While she knew it would not likely be a place where they could set up their new society, their new kingdom – the landscape was too different from what they were used to… when you didn't count the dwarves, perhaps –, it was a place where they could set up camp while sending out scouts to find a suitable location. There were many defendable locations near the mountains: after all, that were one of the reasons why Quel'Thalas had stood unharmed for so many years. It was a much more defendable location than even plains, where only vague hills and scattered trees were present.

Esmera just hoped they would reach it soon.

They had traveled for five weeks now – four of which they had had regular attacks. These beasts – orcs, they called themselves, to great dismay to the Azerothian orcs –, had found their great group of people, and had tried many time to kidnap kids and the less powerful. Thankfully, they didn't have enough individuals to pose a threat, but the Azerothian had lost fourteen to the Light, and a few dozen had been injured. They were truly lucky to have gotten two-hundred extra soldiers, or else those numbers could have been much, much worse.

It was at that moment the worgen, a male one, ran up to her and kneeled. "My lady," he said in the common tongue, only a bit winded.

Esmera sighed again at the title, "Javad said you have the numbers of our causalities." She also switched over to the common tongue, since the worgen wouldn't have any reason to know Thalassian.

"No one died in the attack, thankfully," the worgen explained in his purring voice. "But we have a seriously injured pandaren, and two sin'dorei who won't be able to fight for a while. Also, we lost three wagons, and with two of them their containment – one was filled with wood, the other with food."

"What about the civilians? Did the orcs get close to them?" Esmera inquired.

"No, milady. The fighting took place a fair distance away from them."

The sin'dorei mage let out a breath of relief. "Thank you…"

"Darius, milady," Darius said.

"Thank you Darius," Esmera nodded. "You should go rest as long as you can; we'll be moving out as soon as possible."

"Milady," Darius inclined his head, and then got up and away.

As soon as she was alone – or at least no one spoke to her, as there was a great deal of activity around her –, Esmera leaned back and closed her eyes. However, it wasn't for long before something nuzzled against her cheek. Laboriously she opened her eyes again, only to see her small mana wyrm hover over her face, looking inquiringly at her.

"Hello Ashal," she cooed him, scratching him on top of his head. Ashal made the hissing sound that mana wyrms produced, snuggling further towards her. Esmera laughed lightly as he began to nose his way into her pocket, "All right, all right, I know what you want." After Ashal retreated, Esmera retrieved a small mana gem, and threw it into the air. Ashal quickly caught it, before he settled down on the wagon beside her and munched on it. "You know," Esmera said amusedly, "you're going to get fat if you eat as much as you do." Ashal didn't answer, to busy eating – ironically enough.

Letting out a tired breath, the war hero closed her eyes again. This was truly exhausting: She knew very well how to take care of herself, and had many times been alone in the wilderness with only Ashal, but never had she been responsible for this large a group of people. While she would also be there for these people, she couldn't wait for the day that someone else could take over the leading. She was much more suited as a soldier and a scholar than a leader.

It was with these thoughts that Esmera slumbered off on the wagon, and when the convoy was ready to move on, they let her sleep. Javad walking by his friend, they began making their way towards the mountains, where they hopefully would be able to rest for some time.

* * *

**Thalassian Words:**

_**Ashal – Justice**_

_**Quel'Thalas – High Home/High Kingdom**_

**Author's Notes:** And that was the first chapter! I hope you liked it, and please review :). While most of the story will be from Esmera's point of view, we will get chapters from others point of view when necessary. I feel by doing that, that the story will tell its story best.

It won't take long until the expedition meet some of the other races. I'm really looking forward to writing that.

Rebel Out


	3. Foreign Elves in Familiar Lands

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Author's Notes/warning:** I will be writing of Glorfindel in this chapter. I will say again that I'm not a _diehard_ fan of Lord of the Rings, so it is very possibly I will get things wrong. If I do, please do contact me about them, so I can correct them. Thank you.

**Chapter Two:** Foreign Elves in Familiar Lands

* * *

Glorfindel of Imladris, formerly of Ondolindë, was not an elf who was easily surprised. Not anymore. Not after the betrayal that in the end caused the fall of Ondolindë, his death in said fall, during which he slayed a balrog, and his resurrection almost a full age later. As if dying wasn't a disorienting thing on its own, getting resurrected in a very changed world was much more so. It helped that because of the elves immortality, that there were a few faces he recognized, but the world itself had changed. What didn't help was appearing as bare as the day he was born outside Imladris, in front of Lord Elrond Peredhil.

It took a while to manage to root himself in Imladris and the Second Age. But he did it – even with the grieving of the death of his old home, and the many friends he had had there. With the help of his lord and friend, Elrond Peredhil, he managed to move on, and eventually become the commander of Imladris' forces. It was him who would lead them to battle, it was him who managed the defense and patrols, and it was him who trained the men under him. It was a lot to do for sure, but it was something he was willing to do to keep his new home safe – he wouldn't let another Ondolindë happen if he could prevent it.

Because of all this, Glorifindel of Imladris was not an elf who was easily surprised. It was his _job_ to think ahead, to think of all possibilities, however remote they may be. But a few days ago he had been surprised – something that hadn't happened in a great while –, and today, again, he was surprised – that was something that hadn't happened in at least two millennia.

His cause for surprise had started four days ago, when a border-guard had come galloping into Imladris with news of a force in the hundreds moving in on Imladris. The guard had been sent back to Imladris to ask for backup, but without knowing what they were up against – just that there were many. Glorfindel had burst into action right away, putting the last Homely Home East of the Sea on high alert. Every warrior in Imladris who had been off duty had been recalled, and the army was gathered. The moment that had happened, and Glorfindel was confident in the defenses, he set out with the rest of the elves, ready to take the enemy head on.

All the while this had happened, Glorfindel had wondered how such a large army could have gotten so close to them from the west. The land was flat, so it wasn't usually the directions invasions came from – they came from the north or the south or the east, while less approachable also gave more cover. The land to the west they had always been able to spot an enemy before they even got within a few hundred leagues of Imladris territory. And now? Now an enemy was only a hundred and twenty leagues from Imladris. It was a possibility that Glorifindel hadn't thought of, and it had taken him by surprise, however momentarily.

That was not the only surprise, nor the biggest. Because after three days the stealthy elven army reached the edge of the forest, and what they thought to be an enemy army of either orcs or goblin… only to find out it wasn't an army. Surely there were soldiers there, that much was evident, but at least half of the so-called army was clearly civilians. And it weren't goblins nor orcs that made up the 'army', but beings he hadn't seen before. That was something to be said for an elf as old as him.

By far the larger part of this group of people – Glorifindel refused to call it an army, anymore – was made up of a race that was familiar, yet unfamiliar.

They were elves, that much was clear from their tipped ears and slanted looks. They were also hauntingly beautiful, as his own race was, but that was where the similarities ended. These elves all had eyes which glowed in a harsh green, and their ears were much longer than the elves of his race, as their ear tips well extended to the top of their heads. Almost all of them dressed in crimson red or black, with many of their clothes a lot more revealing than what Glorifindel was used to. To that end, he could also see the tattoos many of them bore on their skin, foreign runes etched in blood-red – something his kind rarely would do.

And then there was the air, the aura, around them. The elves the commander of Imladris knew all had a calming aura, if a bit intimidating because of their age and beauty. Again, the air around these foreign elves were the same, yet different. They all had the beautiful ageless faces of his people, but different from his people, they were also intimidating. The air around them hummed with power, as if they could do great things with a mere flick of their fingers – and that they were willing to do so without much prodding.

But those elves weren't the only race there – they weren't even the only kind of elves. What immediately drew his eyes, also, were the tall and almost savage-looking _purple_ elves. Their hair-color ranging from forest-green to midnight-blue, and their eyes glowed as well, in colors of gold and white – and in a lot less intimidating manner than the fair elves. They looked to be stronger than the fair elves, and any elves Glorifindel had seen.

The rest of them weren't elves; the next largest part of this group of people, other than the fair elves, was large blue beings. He had never in all his years seen the likes of them, with their hooves for legs, tails extending from where their spine ended, their small almost tentacles growing from their chin, and the horns bursting from their forehead. And there were humans, and dwarves. The last few races he could see were large cow-like people, around the size of the blue goat-men, chubby bear-like men colored in black and white, burlier humans colored in green, and lanky creatures with tusks. They also seemed to be accompanied by a few strange black dogs.

They were protecting a large convoy of wagons, on which what he guessed was civilians also sat. At the moment they weren't moving, but sitting around many campfires eating. Still, many soldiers still patrolled the borders of the convoy with a vigilance and unrest that could only come by being attacked for a longer period of time.

Glorfindel knew that this wasn't an army, but he wasn't completely sure if they were enemies to the elves of Imladris or not. For one, he had no idea where this group of people came from – and that was saying something, with this many individuals. It was as if they had appeared out of the blue! While Imladris didn't send out scouts far and wide to know the happenings of the world, they frequently got word of what was happening from wanderers and rangers alike. But Glorifindel couldn't remember anyone talking about beings like these. And if anyone had seen them, Imladris would have heard about it; it was very strange for different races to live in peace together.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't think they would want these people as their enemies. While they seemed vulnerable at the moment, just by the air coming from the fair elves, he knew that they were powerful. So, if Glorifindel and Imladris could actually help these people, they might even become staunch allies – surely much more reliable than the easily corruptible humans.

It was on this conclusion that he decided to approach the people. But he, and those coming with him, would have to be careful. As observed earlier, these people had been exposed to several attacks, so they would very likely be paranoid in their quest to protect. Even more, they were defending civilians, including children (Glorfindel hadn't seen this many elflings, around thirty if he counted right, for a very long time), so they wouldn't hesitate to attack if they thought Glorfindel and the elves under im were a threat.

Ordering his army to stay hidden, and if spotted not to act threateningly unless these people attack them outright with intention to kill, Glorifindel chose five of his finest warriors and separated from the rest of the elves. Moving a great distance form where his army was, Glorifindel turned and walked calmly towards the foreigners.

"Lord Glorfindel, are you sure this is safe?" one of his warriors asked.

"I honestly can not be sure," Glorfindel gave. "But this is not an army – you saw the civilians, did you not?"

"I have never seen so many elflings," a female warrior said in wonder. "Three at most at one time, and that was back in the Second Age."

"But what kind of elves are they?" another warrior wondered. "Do you know, Glorifindel?"

"No, I do not." Glorifindel stopped and turned to the warrior, "But I guess we will find out in due time. Now, you all understand the gravity of this situation? We have to be at our best, because if these are not our enemies, they could become great allies."

"Yes sir," they all nodded.

With that Glorfindel, with his warriors following him, walked out of the undergrowth and into clear view of the foreign elves. At first no one seemed to notice them, but that soon changed. With a single shout in a language he hadn't heard before, the people in front of him organized as more and more warriors poured in front of him, making a wall of elves between Glorfindel and his men, and the convoy and civilians.

But while these people were ready to fight, clear confusion was shown on their faces as they looked upon Glorifindel and his men. And now, closer up, the veteran commander could see the weariness in their eyes; it told him that they must've been out here for a while now – months in at least. Their clothes were wrinkly from use, their long silky hair hanging in sweaty patches, and dirt was smeared onto their exposed skin and on top of the runes that were tattooed here and there. All in all, they looked like a people who was exhausted and who just wanted to rest. That said, they also looked like a people who would go on and fight until they could find a place to get that rest. Very admirable to Glorfindel.

Raising his hands in a peaceful manner, the soldiers in front of him tensing up slightly, he said to them in soothing Sindarin, "I am Glorfindel of Imladris, the Last Homely Home East of the Sea. You are heading towards our dear home, and I must ask what your intentions are."

It was clear that they didn't understand him by the frowns marring their faces. After much muttering in their tongue, which was just as elegant as Sindarin but clearly very different, a male elf with hair as red as the morning sun, which reached past his shoulders, stepped forward. Armor which mixed the crimson color into it, as it did every other clothing these elves wore, adorned him tightly, and a long slim but sturdy blade hung by his side. By the way that the other elves acted around him, it was clear that he had some sort of authority – perhaps he was the leader? Or he could just be a commander.

The elf's glowing eyes flickered between Glorfindel and the elves under the balrog slayer – assessing them, the commander of Imladris quickly concluded –, and as his eyes settled on their ears his eyes widened. Maybe he was just as surprised by the short ears the elves of Imladris had, as much as he was surprised by the long ears that these fair elves had. However different their ears may be, it proved them to be elves, and that seemed to calm the male elf a bit.

"A'ashl'ne? (_What is your purpose here?_)" the elf spoke slowly and clearly. ""Falanore'a othienel'na'lo? (_Are you an enemy towards us?_)"

Glorfindel frowned. "I am afraid I do not understand you." As he spoke the strange elves muttered to themselves again, as the one who had spoken frowned, unconsciously mirroring Glorfindel. "I," the balrog slayer spoke again, catching their attention, "am Glorfindel." When the other elves didn't visibly react, Glorfindel pointed to his chest. "Glorfindel."

The other elf's eyes widened in understanding, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. Pointing to his own chest, he said, "Mehlos."

Glorfindel smiled at the elf and inclined his head, putting his hand on his chest in greeting. "It is nice to meet you Mehlos."

Mehlos inclined his head towards Glorifindel as well, and then used a few moments looking over the elves of Imladris again. He then seemed to reach a conclusion, as he turned his head, without breaking eye contact with Glorifindel, and spoke in another language all together. Glorfindel's eyes widened as something akin to a bipedal warg walked out between the crowed of the fair elves. The balrog slayer quickly concluded that this must be one of the strange black dogs he had seen – clearly not dogs, now that he saw it closer up. Two of the elves behind Glorifindel even took a step back as they exclaimed 'Ai!'. Neither Mehlos nor the weird humanoid warg, if it even was one, reacted to it more than an eye glance, and as soon as Mehlos stopped speaking, the warg dropped on all fours, leaving his sword and shield behind, and ran down the convoy.

Given that the elves hadn't shown any hostile actions, Glorfindel hoped that it was perhaps their leader who was being summoned. But, as he was who he was, he turned his head much in the same way Mehlos had done moments before and said, "Please prepare. We do not know who they have summoned, but it could be their leaders. It is also possible that they are preparing to attack, and that this is all a distraction to get the upper hand." He said with a neutral expression, as to not give anything away to the potential enemy.

"Yes sir," the elves behind him muttered.

They didn't have to wait long, as barely four minutes later movement started to pass through the elves. Before Glorfindel had even looked about, a great many of them parted to make a walkway, bowing their head in respect. That alone wasn't what caught Glorfindel's attention, but rather their expression; deep admiration, respect, and dare he say gratitude showed clearly on each and every one of their faces. All the fatigue that had been visible almost disappeared – and that was done just by their leader being in the presence of their leader. It made the commander of Imladris look even more forward to meet the person.

A moment later he saw her – for she was most definitely a she. Just like the rest of the elves, she was tall with fair skin and glowing green eyes. However her eyes, to differ from the others', seemed to glow with a much softer green. Her shoulder-length hair was a sun-kissed yellow not much unlike his own hair, which framed her beautiful face quite nicely. Glorfindel noticed a beautiful and quite old-looking hair ornament with a decent-sized sapphire, holding back a few strands of hair. Like the rest of her people, she dressed in crimson and black which were quite revealing – at least in the culture in which the elves of Imladris lived in. While she was less tattooed than many than the other elves, a few runes were still visible on her skin. But what drew the most attention about her was the air around her. It was like the air around the rest of her people, just much more potent – and it showed the power and respect she wielded.

As soon as she made it to the front, Mehlos turned and bowed to her, "ashisore'Esmera. (_Lady Esmera_.)"

"Mehlos," the lady elf nodded back at him before her eyes found Glorfindel.

It was as the leader of this people observed him that Mehlos spoke up, but Glorfindel couldn't make heads or tails of it. He used the time to try and judge this person in front of him, but found it quite difficult. Now, he had never been a 'people-reader' like Lord Elrond, he was much more efficient with tactics and battle, but he had learned a thing or two during his service under his Lord. But this lady… other than seeing the visible power and respect, he couldn't get a read off her, like what kind of person she was, or how she may act. It was slightly disturbing.

"A'ther, Mehlos, (_Thank you, Mehlos,)_" she said and turned back to Glorfindel. For a full twenty seconds she stood without saying anything, still assessing him. That's when it hit Glorfindel where he had seen that look before – in seasoned warriors, warriors who had been through many great battles. That she had been through many great battles, and survived, only proved her power even more. She was not someone who Glorfindel wanted to get on the bad side of – while he may win, it would be a very long and very though fight.

* * *

**Sindarin translations:**

_**Imladris – Rivendell**_

_**Ondolindë – Hidden Rock - Gondolin**_

_**Peredhil – Half-elf/Half-elven**_

**Thalassian translations:**

_**A'ashl'ne – You here why – What are you doing here/What is your purpose here?**_

_**Falanore'a othienel'na'lo – Enemy you are us to – Are you an enemy to us/Are you hostile towards us?**_

_**ashisore'Esmera – Lady Esmera**_

_**A'ther – Thank you**_

**Author's Notes:** And that was the second chapter. I hoped you liked it, and as always; please review :).

Rebel Out


	4. First Contact

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Author's Note:** I just wanted to say that I have decided that this story will be a prequel to the 'main story'. So this story will explain why the Azerothians are in Arda, and how they have a kingdom. This story will end when their kingdom is finally built. So this story won't be _that_ long. Furthermore, the chapters in the 'main story' will be larger.

**Chapter Three:** First Contact

* * *

Esmera had begun to hope that perhaps the attacks would let up, as there hadn't been an attack in more than one and a half weeks. It honestly surprised her that these _orcs_ had kept attacking them for so long, as their success had been nonexistent. Of course they had managed to kill a few of the Azerothians, but they hadn't managed to kidnap any as seemed to be their goal. They were getting very close to the mountains, and the closer they got, the more hopeful Esmera became that they would find a place to set up a semi-permanently camp. However all those thoughts would rush away when a great commotion happened two-thirds down the convoy. She itched to join in, but she had promised she would take it easy… even if it would cost someone else's life. She didn't like it, but she knew it was a necessary evil.

She became curious, however, when the sound of fighting didn't start. Not many moments later one of the worgen – who all had become a kind of fast scout, due to their speed – had come rushing up to her. It had set her guards a bit on edge – guards she had only accepted after thorough prodding from Javad –, but she had quickly waved them away.

"Lady Esmera!" the male worgen came up and kneeled in front of her.

"Worgen," Esmera said slowly. "What is happening? Is the strange orcs attacking again?"

"No, milady, they…" the worgen began, frowning. "It's not the orcs. They look like to be some kind of strange elves."

Esmera's eyes widened. "Elves?"

"Yes, milady. Their ears are tipped. But they are much shorter than any elf ears I have ever seen or heard of before. I would say they were half elves if it wasn't for their angled features and beauty that no one but full-blooded elves could hope for."

The leader of the Azerothians mulled it over for a few moments. This was certainly surprising. "Are they hostile?"

"That… is still undetermined," the worgen answered hesitantly. "They are not attacking, but they seem very wary."

Esmera nodded, "And I guess Mehlos would like my presence?"

"Yes, milady."

"All right," Esmera said and grabbed her staff and attached it to her back. "You will stay here with my guards and protect the civilians-"

"Lady Esmera!" one of the guards, a male sin'dorei exclaimed in Thalassian. "Javad was adamant that we be with you at all times."

The mage in question faced the guard with an annoyed glance, making the guard flinch. "And while it is very touching of Javad, I won't be in any less danger with you there. There is a whole regiment of soldiers already there – you and your partner will be much better served guarding the civilians, in case this is just a distraction!"

Bowing his head the guard said, "Yes, milady."

With that Esmera took off with a brisk pace towards the disturbance. It only took a few minutes to reach them, at which point – as soon as they noticed her – the guards immediately parted and bowed their heads in respect. Esmera thought it as unnecessary as she thought her new title was, but _they_ seemed to like to give her that respect, so she had slowly begun to accept it.

At the front of the soldiers stood one of the commanders, Mehlos, in front of five strange elves. As she stepped up beside him, Mehlos bowed to her.

"Lady Esmera."

Esmera nodded back to him, "Mehlos."

"My lady, they appeared roughly seven minutes ago, walking slowly out of the undergrowth," Mehlos started reporting to her, as she looked at the elf in the front. "They hadn't acted hostile yet, but I have gotten word of a large force hiding in the forest in front of the convoy. That force hasn't moved yet, so I would have to guess that these elves are a part of that force. I don't know why they are here, and we have only had little success of communication. The only things we have successfully communicated are our names – the elf in front is named Glorfindel."

Esmera took the time to observe the elf in front of her as Mehlos reported. He was tall – at least a few inches taller than her –, easily towering over everyone here, and had skin as fair as newly fallen snow. His eyes were like humans, with a blue colored iris and with no glowing, and his ears, while pointed, resembled humans as well. But, as the worgen had said, the slanted features of his chin, eyes and eyebrows proved him to be an elf. He wore beautiful armor with a strong bow and a short sword, all in pristine condition. From his posture she could easily tell that he was a veteran like herself, but she couldn't tell his skill much more than that. From the way that the elves around him looked to him for guidance, it was easy to tell that he was at least a captain, if not a commander.

"Thank you, Mehlos," the leader of the Azerothian said, causing Mehlos to bow and step back into line. She then spent around twenty minutes trying to further judge Glorfindel, and when she had found all that she could, she inclined her head. "I greet you, Glorfindel. I am Esmera Sunflower, leader of these people." Glorfindel looked at her as she spoke, but he still frowned as he didn't understand her. She smiled friendly at him, trying to put him at ease, as she out her hand on her chest, "Esmera."

"Mae l'ovannen, Esmera," Glorfindel bowed lightly but respectfully. Mentally Esmera sighed, as she realized that as the leader of the Azerothians she would get a lot more of that. Outwardly, however, she kept smiling peacefully at him.

She needed to keep Glorfindel at ease if she wanted to get anywhere with these strange elves. She didn't know many ways of communicating with races who didn't speak the same language as one did, but she did know a few. One of the books from the great library of Silvermoon spoke of a spell, a kind of memory exchange that would make two individuals understand each other, that had been used to communicate with the humans of Arathor, when the elves had needed help during the Troll Wars. It wasn't very complicated, not after millennia of refining, but it still required both parts to be calm.

Extending her hand towards Glorfindel, she waited on him to grasp it. After he threw her an inquiring look, and she throwing another kind smile, he grabbed it. With slow movements as to not frighten him, she brought her other hand up to her temple and touched it with her index finger and middle finger. After a few seconds of concentrating on the memories she wanted to show – the memories of the invasion, the expeditions departure, and the expeditions stay in this world – a glow appeared at her temple where her fingers had touched. Glorfindel gasped, but thankfully didn't remove his hand. Again very slowly, Esmera began extending her free hand, and as her hand moved away from her head a small glowing silver threat connected it. And then she touched Glorfindel's temple.

Glorfindel gasped loudly as she did, and both of them fell to their knees, the elves around them bursting into action. Thankfully before it could escalate Glorfindel shouted something, and the elves under him stilled. And then the memory transfer started.

It was a very weird sensation, as she could both 'see' the memories that she sent to Glorfindel, while seeing the memories she received from him. But seeing as she already had experienced the invasion of the Burning Legion, and she frankly didn't want to experience it again, she concentrated on Glorfindel's memories.

He was old, very old. While not as old as some night elves, he was at least as old as King Anastarian had been; three thousand years. And now she knew why he were here: the Azerothians had been closing in on his home, Imladris, and he had thought they be an army of orcs or goblins. But as soon as he had seen that there were civilians, he had halted his army… And he wanted to help them!

As the memories slowed down, before eventually ending them – and with the memories ending, the silver string that had connected them fading into nothing –, Esmera smiled sadly at him. Glorfindel looked horrified and looked pitying at them.

"Oh you poor dears," he said as he got up again. "You are the last of your world."

"We are," Esmera smiled. "Will you be willing to provide shelter, at least for the young, old, and injured?"

Glorfindel's eyes widened in surprise. "You speak Sindarin?"

"No," the mage shook her head. "I am still speaking Thalassian, the language of us sin'dorei – blood elves. But the spell I used did more than exchange memories; it connected us in a vague manner so we can understand each other. You do not have to worry, as it will fade by itself in time."

"You have such power?" Glorfindel asked in surprise. "Are you a wizard?"

"No, I am a mage," Esmera asked confused. "And anyone with the right training can do the spell. I will give that it is a very taxing spell for some of the younger ones, but-"

"Wait, you speak as if magic-users are a normal occurrence within your race," the balrog slayer said confused. "Is it?"

"Yes," the mage said, again frowning. "All of our people can use magic. It's a part of us, as much as the blood in our veins."

"Incredible," Glorfindel gasped. He then took another look and saw how much the spell actually had taxed her; while she tried to keep an act up, he saw the sweat on her forehead that hadn't been there before. "As for your question; I can't speak for Imladris, but Lord Elrond Peredhil has always been generous. Under any circumstances, he will welcome your children and injured – and I'm sure after having heard your story, he will welcome all of your people, at least for a while."

"Do you truly have the room for so many?" Esmera asked hopefully.

"Imladris may seem small, but it is much bigger than many realizes."

"We would be forever grateful," Esmera smiled tiredly. "You would have to be our translator, I'm afraid. The spell I've used can only connect two people at once – any more than that, and great damaged can be done to all individuals concerned."

"It would be my honor, Lady Esmera," Glorfindel bowed.

"How far to your fair home?" the leader of the Azerothians asked.

"With this many people, I would say about two weeks travel," Glorfindel answered. Then after a few seconds pause, "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you and your people traveled out here?"

Esmera sighed exhaustedly. "It has been eleven weeks since this expedition escaped the destruction of Azeroth." She looked over her people, a few of them bowing their heads in respect, before she turned back to Glorfindel, "We sin'dorei are not a weak people, but even our civilians are not used to travelling like this. And after weeks of getting attacked by orcs, they are only that more weary."

"Orcs!?" Glorfindel exclaimed, and as he said it the elves beside him snapped their head up. "What are your causalities? How long time since you last encountered them?"

"We have lost twenty-two has been lost to the Light, and twice that many has been injured. Thankfully, no one is critically injured anymore," Esmera answered. "And the last time we saw the orcs was one and a half weeks ago – the longest they haven't attacked since they discovered us."

"How have you not lost any more?" Glorfindel asked in confusion. He was surprised by the blood elf's superior smirk.

"We may be lost, and we may not have a home, but we are not weak," Esmera told him proudly. "We will fight our enemies until they are dead or leave us be." She then turned towards the elves, "Tell the others to get ready! We have been invited to seek refuge in the city of Imladris! Before long we will sleep in beds again, without the danger of being attacked!"

The Azerothians reaction was immediate; they cheered loudly before hurrying out to the civilians.

"They love and respect you very much," Glorfindel noted. "That says a lot about a leader."

"Perhaps," Esmera gave him. "Do you think the elves you have posted in the forest can help us? With their help, and the boost of energy at finally having a goal, may speed the process up slightly."

"You know?" Glorfindel asked stunned.

Esmera smirked, "As I said – we Azerothians aren't weak."

* * *

**Sindarin Phrases:**

_**Mae l'ovannen, Esmera – Well met, Esmera**_

**Author's Notes:** And that was the third chapter – I hope you liked it. Next chapter we will see Imladris, and possibly a meeting between Lord Elrond and Esmera.

Rebel Out


	5. Differences and Similarities

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Chapter Four:** Differences and Similarities

* * *

In the end it took the Survivors of Azeroth, accompanied by Glorfindel and his elves, three weeks to reach the mountain-valley in which Imladris lay. While many of the Azerothians wanted to get there as soon as possible, as that meant that they would finally be able to truly rest for the first time in months, the Esmera Sunflower didn't quite mind the extra time it actually took to reach the home of these strange elves. Don't misunderstand her; she wanted to relax, to bathe, and to sleep soundly as much as any other member of the expedition, but for the first time in weeks she could hear laughter.

As she walked by Glorifindel, him having two guards behind him and she having two guards behind her, she couldn't help but smile as elflings and draenei children had started to play in caravan. There had even been one time where a group of them had come up to her asking her to do magic. Looking at their big innocent eyes she complied, twisting her wrist and releasing a sparkling flame a few meters into the air. It has set the children off giggling before they had run past them, their attention caught by something new.

It hadn't only been the children who had been amazed by the small feat of magic – and it was small; something the school back in Quel'Thalas had taught as soon as the apprentices had a grasp of the uttermost basic –, because the Endorian elves had stared wide eyes at where the flames had been. They had been even more bewildered when one of the wagons had lost a wheel, and instead of stopping to repair it, a pair of sin'dorei had simply gone over to said wagon and cast a small levitation spell – it was the intention to then repair the wheel when they stopped for the day, as to not interrupt the journey. The Endorian elves had slack jawed – metaphorically, at least – as they had seen the heavy wagon simply levitate a few centimeters above ground, continuing to follow the cart in front of it.

The reason for this bewilderment was that in this world, being able to control magic was not all that common. In fact it was only a handful few that could do, and that was because they were powerful already. The only one that Glorifindel knew of that had as much ease with magic as the sin'dorei had was the Istari, who had only arrived in Endor – for that was the name of this land – some four-hundred-and-fifty years ago. _That_ was bewildering for Esmera; why couldn't these elves use magic like they could? On Azeroth there weren't a single race that couldn't grasp the arcane arts. Of course not all races were very good at it, but all races _could_ use magic. Here it seemed that only a very select few powerful elves, and these Istari, could use magic.

Esmera and Glorfindel were discussing this on what Glorfindel estimated to be the last day of their journey. Esmera would admit that the commander of Imladris was good to talk to, if a bit posh. In fact, all of the Endorian elves were rather posh… They reminded Esmera a bit of how the sin'dorei had been as quel'dorei, before the culling of their race, but just so much worse. But that may happen when you are immortal, who knows?

"I have a theory of why there are not many magic users in this world, and why you as elves are only able to do it as limited as you can," Esmera spoke as the convoy walked under the canopies of a forest. As Glorfindel raised an eyebrow she continued, "On Azeroth there has been two great sources of magic, maybe one depending on how you look at it. At the creation of our world a great lake was put in the middle of it all, pulsing arcane magic over Azeroth – it was called the Well of Eternity. There are several theories why the Titans put it there, but the most believes in is that it was to accelerate the evolution of races. It was from this lake that my ancestors about fifteen thousand years ago started to study the arcane arts. After a great tragedy ten thousand years ago which caused The Sundering of much of the world due to a failed invasion of the Burning Legion, the Well was lost, but a few vials procured before it collapsed. After my ancestors were exiled from our old homelands, and after we founded Quel'Thalas about a thousand years later, we used two vials to create the Sunwell. It was from this well that my race learned more about magic. Eventually we taught the humans of our world, which in turn taught their allies. It can be that the reason there aren't many magic users here, is because they simply don't know how."

"That is a staunch theory," Glorfindel conceded. He was always interesting in hearing Esmera talk, as their late world of Azeroth seemed to have a rich history. He could only just follow, and had decided the third day that he would have to stop asking all the time, interrupting Esmera's stories, and simply remember and ask them later. "The only things similar to have ever been here on Arda are The Two Trees of Valinor, and they were never studied. They destroyed over five millennia ago, and their remains were used to create the sun and the moon."

"Hmm," Esmera hummed. "I would say it is also very likely that the races here are simply not capable to learning to control the Arcane in the same way that Azerothians are able to. Remember that most, if not all, races of Azeroth evolved by prodding of Arcane energies. From the way you speak, all races of Arda have been created as they are."

"Then how do you explain the few who _are_ able to use magic, at least to a small extend?" Glorfindel asked curious.

"Just like a few are born who can run just a little bit faster, or are a little bit stronger, the same thing can happen that a few are born that are able to grasp magic just a little bit."

Even as they talked to each other, both were very careful to not expose any secrets of their people. They had established that the other were most likely not an enemy, but that didn't mean that they could go out and blabber all their secrets. Especially the Azerothians, while grateful to the Endorian elves, were rather reserved towards them – as much as they could be, when they couldn't understand them. After all, all the worldly possessions the Azerothians had were in this convoy and that was it. Other than that, they had their history and knowledge; it was not much compared to the kingdoms there had been on Azeroth. It was a fine line to be walking – to still be friendly and show good will, but not to reveal so much that they felt exposed.

Ashal interrupted the conversation from going further, flying up and snuggling around Esmera's neck, before hovering in front of her in a begging manner. The mage gave the mana wyrm an admonishing look, "You already got one this morning."

"Hshhsh," it came from the mana wyrm, and it snuggled closer.

"I spoil you all too much," Esmera muttered to herself as she dug out a very small mana gem. Holding it with a flat palm upwards, Ashal quickly devoured it, and returned to play with the children. "Give me an army to stand against, and I will have no problem. Give me a mana wyrm with the munchies, and I won't be able to resist."

"Were there more creatures like these mana wyrms back on your home world?" Glorfindel asked, looking interested at the semitransparent floating serpent.

"Energy beings? Yeah, there were a few. Though the mana wyrms are the only one who reproduces in the same manner animals does. The other energy beings normally take from around unstable arcane energies," Esmera answered. She retrieved a mana gem and handed it to Glorfindel, who looked intrigued at it. "Mana wyrms live of arcane energies. Back on Azeroth they were only living in the wild where a great amount of arcane magic flows – so much so, that some of it crystallizes. Mages are able to create mana gems, which is basically artificial gems containing arcane energies. It's a lot more potent that the naturally occurring ones, which is why I really shouldn't be feeding Ashal as much as I do. They can't get fat since they are only half corporeal, but if they get too much energy over a longer period of time, they can get very sick."

"The things you tell me continue to amaze me," Glorfindel chuckled as he handed the gem back. "If it was not for what I had already seen, I am not ashamed to tell that I would have a very hard time believing you."

"You should have seen Quel'Thalas in its prime, then," Esmera said with sadness and pain. "Golden spires rose to the air to tower up above everything else, beautiful streets full of elves laughing and talking, and the forests in eternal spring." The paused, "I fear that I will never see that again. I know I will not see it back on Azeroth, but I still hope that this expedition will be able to build a kingdom that rivals the old ones on Azeroth."

"From what I have seen, I am sure you will," Glorfindel said and shared in her mourning. It was a very real thing to Glorfindel, as he had seen what dark forces could do. And while his entire world hadn't been destroyed, he had lived in Ondolindë and seen it destroyed. Deciding to try and change the subject, hopefully cheering the glowing-eyed lady-elf up, he said, "You should be able to see Imladris just around this bend. We will still have to walk for about an hour due to the wagons, but it won't be long before your people can rest."

"I am looking forward to it," Esmera inclined her head, shaking the melancholy thoughts from her head. She glanced at the small-eared elf, "Does your Lord know that we will be arriving? As kind as you say he is, I cannot imagine he would be pleased if we showed up out of the blue."

"You have no need to worry, Lady Esmera," the commander of Imladris smiled. "The day that we set out towards Imladris, I sent one of our scouts ahead to tell Lord Elrond. He will be awaiting us."

"I hope I don't disappoint," Esmera frowned. This would be her first – and biggest – test as a leader. If she insulted the Lord of Imladris, there would be little hope of her people be granted sanctuary there.

As Glorfindel had said, after the next bend in the road Imladris came into sight. That it was the place that they could finally rest only made it even more beautiful than it already was: It looked like to have been built of liquid silver, as it seemingly sat on the valley wall. Graceful bridges connected the many just-as-graceful buildings, as nature seemingly blended in with the elf-made. It was nothing like Silvermoon had been in its prime, with magic intertwined into the buildings, but Esmera would dare say it was the closest you could get to it _without _the use of magic. It was a bittersweet sight.

"You have cause to be proud of your home," Esmera told Glorfindel. "Such a sight is rare."

* * *

**Sindarin translations:**

_**Endor – Middle Earth**_

_**Istari – Wizards**_

_**Ondolindë – The Rock – Gondolin**_

**Author's Notes:** Next chapter we will see from Elrond's point of view. After that we will have a few chapters of the happenings in Rivendell (including a scene I'm looking forward to writing), and then the Azerothians will set out to build their kingdom. I would say that there is about ten chapters left of this story, before I begin on the main story.


	6. The Lord and the Lady

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Author's Note:** If you want to see the clothes that Esmera will be wearing during her stay in Rivendell, click on the link below.

art/Remember-the-Sunwell-158204952

(Search on google, and it will be the only link popping up)

**Chapter Five:** The Lord and the Lady

* * *

When Lord Elrond had first received the message that the young scout had carried, he was sure that Glorfindel was jesting. However the scout was adamant that it was true, and that the last survivors of another world was coming to Imladris. Lord Elrond had to accept the truth when he had used the power of Vilya to look out over the valley, and had seen them. Or rather, he couldn't see these foreigners, but he saw the power they brought with them.

It wasn't like any power he had seen before, as it was neither good nor evil. It hadn't been created, like much on Arda had been, for a singular good or evil purpose. The power was simply _there_; anyone with sufficient skill would be able to manipulate that power into purpose of good or purpose of evil. It could both save the Free People of Middle Earth, or it could destroy them.

Elrond had doubts whether or not to accept these strangers into Imladris, though that doubt disappeared when he saw them with his own eyes, as they walked into the city. Their expressions of relief were etched upon weary faces, much of their clothes were damaged from so much use, and he doubted that many of them had had time to clean themselves in weeks. This was not the face of evil, and it was not their fault that within them they carried this power. Elrond understood there that they were simply survivors; they had seen their world be destroyed, but they had survived.

The Azerothians – because that was what they called themselves – was given refuge in a portion of the city that lined of with the forest surrounding Imladris. They were too many for every individual to stay in the city, so the elves of Imladris helped set up semi-permanent tents as residence. Elrond had expected a revolt from those who would not _actually_ stay within the city but instead sleep in tents, but what he saw was simply contentment of having a place to return to.

While the foreign people settled in, Elrond had called a meeting with the leader of these Azerothians. With him he would have Glorfindel, Erestor, Elladan and Elrohir. While these Azerothians spoke languages they could not understand, as far as Elrond had understood, the leaders of the Azerothians had done a feat of magic that created an understanding between Glorfindel and her. He would have said that such complicated magic were impossible, if it wasn't that he had seen with his own eyes the strange elves use magic like it was an everyday thing to unpack some of their belongings. They made the elves of Arda look like amateurs.

Glorfindel had told him of what he had learned during the travels, but it wasn't much. While the leader of the Azerothians, Lady Esmera, had been friendly and forthcoming, she hadn't revealed more than general information. He had learned that their world was – had been, Elrond corrected himself – a much more dynamic world than Arda. While the beings that had created it, these Titans, had left the world sixty-four thousand years ago, the world had changed just by the hands of the great many races – many more than there had ever been on Arda. Furthermore, the only beings that were truly immortal were the dragons – most of whom weren't enemies of mortals, but protectors –, and the draenei. And while Esmera had been very vague about it, she had hinted that there was a way for the other races to gain immortality as well.

"Is there anything else we should know about them?" Elrond asked his commander, as they awaited Lady Esmera.

"No, Lord Elrond," Glorfindel answered. "Just, I truly believe that we don't want these Azerothians as our enemies, especially not these sin'dorei. As you can sense and have observed by yourself, they have great powers. More than that, the last many decades have been filled with war on Azeroth, by far most of the time because of this Burning Legion which in the end destroyed their world."

"How can they be a threat?" Elrohir asked. "They are a people without a home."

"Indeed they are," Glorfindel inclined his head. "But would you be able to lead that many people for almost three months in the wilderness, without a single day's rest, with only the loss of twenty-two individuals to the orcs – all of which were soldiers fighting in the battles?"

"Such a thing is impossible," Elladan said disbelieving. "Surely you jest?"

"No, I do not," Glorfindel shook his head. He then turned his attention back to his Lord, "But with that said, I do not believe that they will fight us if they can avoid it. They know war, and they long for peace. I believe that if you turn them away now, they will be gone within a few days. I urge you not to, for when the Final Battle arrives I believe we could use their help."

Lord Elrond nodded. "Send her in," he told his guard, who opened the door to the study and walked out to get the person in question. Ten seconds later Lady Esmera Sunflower, leader of the Azerothians, walked into the study.

She was… something Elrond had to admit. She easily rivaled the beauty of the most beautiful elves, all but Arwen, Celebrían, and Galadriel, but it was drastically different; her beauty was sharp in contrast to the ellith. Glorfindel was correct when he said she had an aura about her, an aura of power – the same as her people, just much more potent. But that said, there was kindness to her as well. Gratitude shone from her exhausted face (though, she tried to hide her exhaustion well), and her softly glowing eyes were kind.

She had changed clothes from when Elrond had seen her briefly as she entered Imladris. While it still was more exposing than what he was used to, especially with the blood-red runes was etched upon one of her shoulders, it was more concealing than her previous clothes and the clothes many of her kin wore. Like many of the sin'dorei, her dress was crimson. It was made of an expensive material akin to silk, and it had threats of gold and emeralds sown into the line that lined up to her exposed chest-area. Around her wrist she wore bracelet-like jewelry which encompassed most of her forearms, in the same design the jewelry on her chest was – though instead of emeralds, a shiny red metal was used. What really caught Elrond's eyes, however, was the small vial of water which hung around her neck in a black thread – it hummed with power, not much unlike Vilya except for that it was a lot more uncontrolled.

She came to a stop in front of the desk Elrond stood behind, and lowered her head in respect. "Bal'a dash, Elrond'thos. Dur'a'ther adtuell'a."

"She says 'Greetings, Lord Elrond. Thank you for your hospitality'," Glorfindel translated, Lady Esmera nodding at his statement.

"Greetings to you as well, Lady Esmera of Azeroth," Lord Elrond greeted back with a tip of his head. "Are your people settling in well enough?"

As Glorfindel repeated the question for Esmera, the elf in question nodded gratefully. Elrond thought it weird how even though Glorfindel spoke the exact same language – with the exact same words –, Esmera couldn't understand Elrond but could understand Glorfindel. It was incredible, what magic these people could do. He listened to her language – which was just as graceful as Sindarin and Quenya, but fundamentally different – as she spoke for a fair amount of time, and then turned to Glorfindel, who was nodding throughout the whole thing, to hear the translation.

"She says," Glorfindel translated, "that her people should have unpacked by the end of tomorrow. Compared to how they have lived for the last many weeks, this is a dream come true, and she along with many of her people are looking forward to getting some rest. She admits that their appearance out of nowhere is rather suspicious but promises on… the Sunwell's Rays that they mean no harm. All that they want is to find a home and stay there – they have no intentions of making enemies of anyone. She promises that her people will contain themselves to the part of Imladris that has been offered as to not interrupt the going-ons of the city. She will have to talk to the commanders and captains to get the state of her people, but expect that they will start sending scouts out to look for a suitable location for their new home in two weeks when everyone has rested. And she asks if it is possible when they have found the location of their new home, that the elderly and the children will be able to stay in Imladris, until they have built the fundaments as to not bring them in danger."

"What is this Sunwell, upon which ray's she swore on?" Erestor asked curiously. Elrond could understand his friend: Erestor was a scholar and a teacher, and here were a people with a whole world's worth of knowledge and history. Elrond knew that much of his friend's time would be used with trying to learn this Thalassian, so he could start questioning the people… In fact, that might not be a bad idea – to have Erestor learn Thalassian, while he taught someone of high standing Sindarin.

Glorfindel answered without consulting Esmera this time. "The Sunwell was a fond arcane energies. It was the holiest of things in the sin'dorei culture, and it was because of its power that they managed to create a gateway into Arda from Azeroth. Their whole culture depended on it, and it was also from there that they studied magic. From my conversations with Lady Esmera, I can understand that the closest thing to it that has ever been on Arda was the two trees." As he let it sink in, he said, "I believe that their swearing upon anything related to the Sunwell is like us swearing upon the Valar."

"Thank you, Glorfindel," Elrond nodded as he turned back towards the foreign elf. "Your people are welcome in Imladris as long as you remain peaceful. My house has always been open to travelers, and that will not change just because we are unfamiliar with your people. You don't have to stay contained in that part of the city, as long as you don't bring chaos. As for finding a location for a new home, if you tell us what you're looking for, I will be sure to recommend a few places I know of. And of course your children and old are welcome to say as long as they like." Glorfindel translated, and Elrond could see the tension release from her as she smiled happily at him. "If we are to make this work, we will have to learn each other's languages. I will offer up our top scholar, Lord Erestor," Elrond motioned to Erestor, who looked so happy he could burst, "who can teach a one of your people Sindarin, if they will in turn teach him Thalassian."

As Glorfindel translated, Esmera looked thoughtful. Glorfindel translated again, "She believes that she may have one who would be rather perfect for the job. He was a teacher back in their home world who also studied their history, and he would most likely be very interested in learning about our culture as well. She points out that she would have to ask him first, as she has no right to order anyone around."

"Of course," Elrond nodded, and his respect for the Lady elleth rose. As far as Glorfindel had said, there wasn't much the people she led wouldn't do for her – and still she didn't want to order anyone around more than necessary. "I believe that is all for now. I hope that you will rest well, and you are of course welcome to join us for dinner any night. I know that my wife and daughter would love to meet you. Do you have anything you would like to add before we call this meeting to a close, Lady Esmera?"

As she spoke again, Glorfindel's eyes widened. "S-she would like to ask that you keep the distance to the young sin'dorei. Because of your ring."

"What does she know about Vilya?" Elrond asked slightly suspicious.

Glorfindel translated, "All she can tell is that it contains powerful magic. As sin'dorei magic is as much a part of them as the blood in their veins; just like they need air and water, magic keeps flowing through them to keep them strong. Normally this are done with the ambient magic in the environment, but if a young sin'dorei gets too close to powerful sources of magic, they can accidently absorb it instinctually, and thus get something she calls Arcane Fever. It wouldn't happen if they were around a powerful source as the Sunwell, as it's magic would instantaneously flush anything remotely dangerous out of their system, but they don't have such a source here on Arda. It is only in their adolescent years that they manage to get the instincts under control, after which they are able to actively sap the power from objects – some are even able to sap the mana from enemies."

"Of course," Elrond said amazed. In all his years, he had never imagined beings that were so in tune with magic would come into existence. "I will keep that in mind. We wouldn't want the elflings to become sick."

With that, the meeting ended and Lady Esmera left to get some well deserving rest.

* * *

_**Thalassian Translation:**_

**Bal'a dash, Elrond'thos. Dur'a'ther adtuell'a. – Greetings, Lord Elrond. Thank you for your hospitality.**

_**Sindarin Translation:**_

**Ellith – Female Elves**

**Elleth – Female Elf**

**Author's Note:** And that was the fifth chapter. I hope you liked the meeting between Elrond and Esmera. As I said, the next few chapters will be about the elves of Imladris and the Azerothians learning to know each other. After that it will be a few chapters about the Azerothians finding and building their new kingdom, and then this prequel will be complete.

Rebel Out


	7. The Mourning Elves

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Chapter Six:** The Mourning Elves

* * *

Arwen Undómiel waved with a smile at the five children – three elflings along with two draenei children –, as they followed an elderly sin'dorei who had called them. The woman thanked Arwen in Thalassian – one of the few phrases that she had learned quickly – and then hurried the children along. They didn't hesitate, and went along as they ran around her still playing. It widened Arwen's smile, and she closed her eyes to listen to their small bubbling laughs for about twenty seconds more. Children truly were blessings sent from the Valar.

The Azerothians had stayed in Imladris for six days now, and it had only taken two days for the children to find out how much they were allowed. Any of the elves in Imladris loved children, and it was rare that they would deny the small people anything that they wanted. Perhaps that was especially true in Imladris, as it was several centuries since an elflings had walked the halls – and now there were dozens running around playing. So, for the elves of Imladris, a few vases that was accidentally broken, or the children bumping into a few people because they ran so fast… that was a price worth paying.

The five children she had just waved goodbye to had found her on the third day, and had returned to play with her each succeeding day after that. Arwen couldn't understand them, as they pulled her along babbling in their tongue, but that didn't seem to bother them much. The two boys – one sin'dorei and one of the strange draenei – loved to bring her flowers and beautiful pebbles, all of which she kept in her room, and the girls loved to sit down with her as they did her hair and she hers. And yesterday Arwen had been so blessed to join them and another eight children in a game of tag. It had been ages since she had had so much childish fun!

While the children of the Azerothians seemed to run all over Imladris, the adults seemed to keep much to the part of the city that had been given to them for the moment. A few of them could be seen walking the halls, mostly young lovers and old couples, whispering sweetly to each other, as they enjoyed the beauty of Arwen's home and each other's company. But, as said, the majority stayed in the western part of the city. The first three days it had been so quiet, as the Azerothians had rested after their long journey. On the fourth day the noise picked up a bit, as the people there started walking around and doing whatever they were doing.

They were strange to Arwen. But she guessed she would think the same of the humans here in Endor, if she hadn't grown up hearing about them. They were living in an elven culture, that much was clear – even the races that weren't elven. There was an elegance, beauty, and formality about it, that also were present in Imladris', Lothlorien's, and Mirkwood's cultures. But, to Arwen at least, their culture was much more… stark and rugged. Their clothing was more exposed, without being indecent, and many of the elves with the green glowing eyes had runes etched on their skin, a select few even on their faces. Even more so, _all_ of them, elf or no, bore clothing in color of a form of red, most often crimson, or black, with emerald green incorporated. The crimson and green were more common than the black, and the children weren't required to wear the colors as much.

That is, except today.

All the Azerothians Arwen had seen today, the children including, were clothed in deep black. Even more, the people had an aura of sadness and mourning about them. It seemed that they were finally mourning the loss of their world, after not being able to because they were on the road. Arwen felt with them, though she could not relate to it. She could not even dissemble the destruction of her home, not the way that Glorfindel and her father and mother could. It was simply inconceivable to her. But these people had lost their home and their world… and Arwen would do what she could to ease their mourning.

She quietly knocked on the door to her father's study before entering. Her father sat in his seat behind his desk, and her mother sat in her chair in the corner quietly reading a book. Erestor sat in a chair in front of his desk, currently talking lively to her father – most definitely something he had learned from the sin'dorei he had spent his days with since they arrived –, and Glorfindel stood by the wide window behind her father smiling lightly at Erestor.

Lord Elrond looked up at the sound of his daughter's knocking, smiling as he saw his daughter.

"Arwen," he smiled at her, the rest of the room looking at her as he did. "I trust that you have had a pleasant day?"

"Yes, father," Arwen smiled back at him. "I saw 'Ro and 'Dan off for their patrol at dawn, and spend the morning in the library reading. The five children I have spent my time with the last few days found me around two, and I have spent the rest of the day with them."

"You have got something to eat, haven't you, my dear? I didn't see you at either lunch or dinner." Celebrían voice sounded softly with a hint of worry. "The children are a blessing, but you cannot go skipping meals."

"Your worry is for naught," the Evenstar answered softly. "I simply ate an apple in the library at lunch, and dined with the children at the kitchen two hours ago."

"I must admit that I envy your ability to be with the children," Lord Elrond said to his daughter, as she took a seat beside her mother who squeezed her hand before going back to her book. "What I wouldn't do to fell elflings arms around my neck once again. But alas…" he sighed as he glanced at the ring on his finger.

"It is truly quite remarkable," Elrond stated excitedly. "I feel for you, milord, but the reason behind why you can't approach the children is simply…"

"Remarkable?" Glorfindel asked with a small laugh.

"Exactly!" Erestor agreed. "Can you just imagine being affected by magic as much as they do? From my conversations with Astalor the sin'dorei almost have a sixth sense; as the ambient magic enters and leaves their bodies, they leave an 'imprint' that they pick up, much like they pick up sound with their ears and light with their eyes. That is how Lady Esmera sensed your ring."

"Lady Esmera explained the same to me on our journey here," Glorfindel told. "As incredible as it sounds, that we are only able to use magic 'as little' as we can compared, is as unbelieving to them as their ease with magic is to us."

"I heard the that the name of the elves, sin'dorei, in our tongue is Blood Elves," Arwen mused as she got the attention of the ellon in the room. "Is that true? And if it is, do any of you know the story behind the name?"

"It _is_ true," Erestor said, again excited. "It was one of the first questions I asked. The term 'blood elf' is a cultural identity in itself. As I have gathered, three decades ago the sin'dorei were named quel'dorei – or High Elves – and lived just as isolated as the Mirkwood elves does. That changed, however, when their kingdom was attack indirectly by the Burning Legion, after the Legion had pretty much destroyed a human kingdom they shared border with. Over ninety percent of their population was killed, and the Sunwell was corrupted so much that they had to shut it off. They took up the name 'blood elves' as a show of respect and honor for the fall of the high elves, the destruction of the Sunwell, the near-annihilation of their kingdom, and their rebirth from its ashes."

"They have such a tragic past," Celebrían sighed sadly. She looked out of the window, to the western part of the city where a few black-clothed individuals could be seen milling about. "I do hope that they will be able to find peace in their new kingdom."

"However long that peace may last," Elrond sighed. He would hope that it would last many millennia yet, but the increase in orcs, goblins and wargs in the wild, as well as the fall of Rhudaur at the hands of Angmar hinted otherwise. Elrond shook his head and smiled sadly at he noticed the dimmed atmosphere in the room. "I apologize-" He stopped midsentence as… singing could be heard from the outside – particular from the western part of Imladris. "What in the world…?" Elrond said as he rose from his seat, along with the rest of the occupants of the room, and walked to the window and looked out.

"My word… It's beautiful," Arwen whispered. The others could only nod in consent.

On a platform in the western part of the city was gathered a great amount of Azerothians – Arwen wouldn't doubt if anyone told her that it was four fifths of the total population who was there at the moment. They were clothed completely in black, and were almost all bearing a single lit candle each. A choir could be heard humming a melody, as a single female voice sung the vocals that Arwen did not understand. Even so, she could feel the sadness and mourning in the words, and was surprised to feel a single tear escape her left eye. It was hauntingly beautiful, and not something she had seen before. After all, why would she need to mourn the dead, when she had never known anyone who had died?

Arwen saw as windows all over Imladris was filled with elves, as they joined in the mourning of a world they had never known. A few even stood with lit candles as a gesture. Arwen smiled sadly, as her eyes wandered back to the choir. Deciding not to think too far into it, and simply listen to the Thalassian words;

"Anar'alah, Anar'alah belore,

Sin'dorei,

Shindu fallah na,

Sin'dorei,

Anar'alah,

Shindu Sin'dorei,

Shindu fallah na,

Sin'dorei,

Anar'alah belore,

Shindu Sin'dorei,

Shindu fallah na,

Sin'dorei,

Anar'alah belore,

Belore."

Arwen's head snapped to her right as she heard Glorfindel gasp, and was even more surprised as tears were freely flowing from his cheek.

"Dear Glorfindel, are you all right?" Celebrían asked as she laid a hand on his shoulder. Glorfindel nodded and a padded her hand lightly.

"I-it's lady Esmera who is singing," Glorfindel said in a whisper. "The song… it's beautiful."

"What are they singing about?" Erestor asked. Arwen thought that he sounded a little too excited, taking into consideration how the Azerothians must be feeling at this moment.

"They sing about an attack," Glorfindle gulped. "They sing about the enemy who are breaking through, and 'falling children of the blood'."

"Children of the Blood?" Elrond asked.

"Another, more formal way, of saying 'Blood Elves'," Erestor explained. "'Dorei', which we translate to elf, also means children or people. Thalassian is a hard language to grasp, as they have words that mean many different things depending on the conversation. The language makes extensive use of metaphor to make great use of simple word combinations which refer to larger concepts."

"Perhaps now is not the time to be discussing this?" Arwen asked softly.

Elrond nodded, and Erestor had the decency to look slightly abashed. "You are right, of course."

"By the Valar! Look!" Celebrían exclaimed, and the rest did as asked. When they did, their eyes bulked out; first it was just a single candle which began floating up into the darkness, but soon it was followed by many other candles. A minute later and the night sky were lit up with what looked thousands of flickering lights that floated away. The voices kept singing as the candles floated in the air, traveling father and father. And as the last light wasn't visible anymore, that was when the last note was sung. After that it was all too quiet, the dark of the night.

"May they all rest in peace," Elrond mumbled.

"May they all rest in peace," the rest of the elves in the room repeated in a whisper.

* * *

_**Translation of the Thalassian Song:**_

**Anar'alah, Anar'alah belore – By the light, by the light of the sun**

**Sin'dorei – Children of the blood**

**Shindu fallah na – Our enemies are breaking through**

**Sin'dorei – Children of the blood**

**Anar'alah – By the light**

**Shindu Sin'dorei – Failing children of the blood**

**Shindu fallah na – They are breaking through**

**Sin'dorei – O' children of the blood**

**Anar'alah belore – By the light of the sun**

**Shindu Sin'dorei – Failing children of the blood**

**Shindu fallah na – They are breaking through**

**Sin'dorei – O' children of the blood**

**Anar'alah belore – By the light of the sun**

**Belore – The Sun**

_**Sindarin Phrases:**_

**Undómiel – Evenstar**

**Ellon – Male Elf**

**Author's Notes:** I hope you liked this chapter – I know I had a great time writing it. Next chapter there will be revealed a big secret of the story, that will have a large impact. I also think it will be the last chapter purely in Imladris; or rather, it will be the chapter after that, that the scouts of the Azerothians find a suitable location for their new home.

Rebel Out.


	8. Just a Simple Vial

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Chapter Seven:** Just a Simple Vial

* * *

"-so there doesn't seem to be a suitable location to the north," the Tauren druid said solemnly. "I am sorry. I wonder if we will ever find a new home."

"It is not your fault," Esmera said with a sad smile. "We will find our new home in due time. And for now, we are welcome in Imladris, and what is more important; we are safe and we are alive. Do not despair; hope is still on our side."

"Of course… You are right, Lady Esmera," the druid bowed his head.

"Go get some rest; you have been out on a long journey, and I am afraid we will need you to do it again," Esmera said with a frown. "I feel bad for pushing the druids who have mastered a flying shapeshifting-form. All the while you are scouting the world, I am sitting safely here in Imladris."

"It is no trouble," the Tauren smiled at her. "We honestly do not mind. You have done enough for us for a lifetime, Lady Esmera, and still you seek to do more. We are honored to be able to help, and to serve under you."

"It is me who am honored to have hard-working individuals listening to my voice," Esmera said with a smile. She padded the kneeling Tauren on the cheek and motioned with her head towards the western part of Imladris. "Go rest. And enjoy being among friends and family again."

The Tauren inclined his head before standing up – easily towering over Esmera by two meters – and heading towards the Azerothian's camp in the western part of Imladris. Esmera smiled at his back as he walked, and sighed as he was out of sight. That was the third scout to have returned that week with bad news. Only two more was out there, and Esmera expected them to be back within forty-eight hours. They had been scouting the north, just like the week before that they had been scouting the west. And no location had come up yet: it was either too cold, or the terrain was wrong, or there were populations too close by… The next week the scouts would be checking the south, and if they didn't find any suitable locations there, they would have to start looking to the east. It was something Esmera didn't want to do, as it meant travel around the 'Misty Mountains' as the elves here called them. With how many Azerothians they were, that would take up to five months, since they had to go _around_ the mountains.

Esmera supposed they were lucky they had enough druids with a flying shape to be able to scout this way. If they didn't have them, scouting alone could take up to a year. Esmera also had to be careful not to push the druids too far: they were just as eager to find a suitable location as she was, and many times had flown father in shorter time than Esmera had instructed. They could take their time – as Esmera had said, they were safe and welcome in Imladris for now. And from her conversations with Lord Elrond, she didn't sense that he wanted to throw them out any time soon.

Their fourth week in Imladris was coming to a close, and there hadn't been any complaints from the occupants of the city. In fact there had been appreciation, as a great deal of the Azerothians had begun in the second week to move around Imladris, helping wherever they could. Those who loved smithing had taken to help the smith – especially the Azerothian dwarves had taken to that. The smith was delighted, as the Azerothians taught the smiths there their own knowledge of smithing, as the Endorian elves taught the Azerothians of their way of smithing. And such was it all over the city, whether it be cleaning (less so than smithing), or tailoring. A few Azerothians had even set out to copy some books that the sin'dorei had brought to give to Imladris as thanks! Of course the books copied had to be allowed by Esmera and first (no one else seemed to dare say yay or nay to that), but there were about two dozen books being copied at the moment.

In time Esmera didn't doubt that the Azerothians would be able to integrate themselves into Imladris. But that wasn't going to happen – the Azerothians would build a new home where they could live. For while there hadn't been any complaints, Esmera had talked to some of the 'savage' races of Azeroth to hear how they were treated: while they hadn't been discriminated, the way that many of the Endorian elves threw them looks of fear and disgust made them feel dirty, and they didn't leave the western part of Imladris often. And Esmera wouldn't abandon them: it didn't matter if back on Azeroth they were Horde or Alliance – now all races of Azeroth were simply Azerothians. They were one people of many races, and the Azerothians actually seemed to be accepting that.

"Lady Esmera?"

Esmera snapped out of her musing, realizing she had been looking over Imladris bathed in sunset as she thought. She turned to see Javad walk towards her. She smiled kindly at him.

"Javad, my friend, I have told you many times that for you it is simply 'Esmera'." She looked back out over the beautiful city, "I have realized – and to an extent accepted – that whether or not I like it, I will be a 'Lady' in the Azerothians eyes. But to close friends who have known me for years, please call me by what you have up until the Destruction of Azeroth."

"Very well," Javad inclined his head as he stopped beside Esmera. He also easily towered over her, though just by a meter, unlike the Tauren. "Did the scout bring good news?"

"I'm afraid not," Esmera sighed. She let that statement hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. "For each day that passes, and for each scout that brings news of no suitable location, the more I fear we will have to travel to the other side of the Misty Mountains. I do not doubt that our people are capable of doing so, but from what Lord Elrond say I know it won't be an easy journey. Unlike the flat grasslands we journeyed on here to Imladris, the lands south are covered in hills and forests. And winter is moving in, and it will be too cold for many to journey with us, and will sap the hope out of those who do."

"I understand your worries, because I carry them as well," Javad said. He watched the sin'dorei clasp her hands in front of her, straining them in worry of the people who she had not expected to lead, but which she had done with more grace and strength that many others would be able to. She was a leader worth following, and that was how he knew that no matter how many obstacles there would be before they build their new home, they would succeed. "But it is not yet time to worry," he continued, making her look up at him. "There is still a few scouts in the north, isn't there? And we still haven't sent scouts to the south."

Esmera took a deep, settling breath. "You are right, my friend." She turned to smile at him, "Thank you."

Javad inclined his head, "You will always be able to lend my ear. All you have to do is say so. Now, have you eaten dinner yet? If not, may I have the honor of escorting you?" Javad offered his arm.

"Of course, Javad," Esmera said with a bright smile, as she encircled her small arm into his large one. Together they walked to the Dining Hall.

* * *

"-and thus we are in the year TA – Third Age – 1450," Glorfindel said to his new friend.

"So each time a new age starts, you simply go back to Year One?" Esmera asked curiously, to which Glorfindel nodded. "But how do you decide when an event is big enough to start a new age? Do you not get conflicting ages if one people think that it's time for a new age, but another people do not?"

"We have never had such a conflict yet," Glorfindel answered. "So far every time such an event has come about, every single people have been involved in it. And it isn't something that is agreed upon as such – it just is. Answer me, how did the Azerothians measure the passing of years?"

"It was different from each kingdom," Esmera said as she took a bite of the delicious fruit in front of her. Swallowing, she continued, "Quel'Thalas measured time after the Exile from New Kalimdor, while our Kaldorei cousins measured time from after the Sundering. At last the Human Kingdoms measured the years from when the Kingdom of Strom was founded – the first human kingdom to be founded."

"It still fascinates me how many different people could co-exist on Azeroth," Glorfindel stated. And after a second thought, "Ahem, I mean at least before the opening of the Black Portal."

"The Dark Portal," Esmera corrected goodheartedly. "And to be honest we didn't 'co-exist' that much. The Kaldorei lived in isolation on Kalimdor, and we sin'dorei, then known as quel'dorei, lived in peace in Quel'Thalas. It was really the humans who traveled all over the Eastern Kingdoms, trading with the dwarves and founding kingdoms to the left and the right."

"Still: you lived on one world for a great many years, without fighting with each other," Glorfindel insisted.

"It wasn't as if we didn't have enemies," Esmera reminded him. "The trolls and the elves have been enemies since before the founding of Quel'Thalas. It took a great war to push them back. After that, they kept picking up skirmishes here and there."

"But-" Glorfindel started, but was cut off as a male sin'dorei burst into the Dining Hall, shouting.

"Lady Esmera! Lady Esmera!" he shouted as he stopped in front of her. "Lady Esmera, you have to come! It's one of the elflings – he is in withdrawal!"

"_What!?_" it came panicked from Esmera. "How bad it is?"

"Lady Esmera, what is happening?" Glorfindel asked. Esmera, for the first time since they met, ignored him. The rest of the Dining hall had also grown quiet; this was the first time that the leader of the Azerothians had raised her voice – and even if they couldn't understand her, it was quite clear by the tone of her voice that she was distressed.

"He was playing in the woods when he collapsed, and was only found hours later," the sin'dorei explained. "He seems to be in Stage Two, progressing rapidly into Stage Three."

"Damn it!" Esmera exclaimed as she rose from her seat so fast that her chair fell over. "I take it that he is in the infirmary?"

"Yes," the sin'dorei nodded. "His mother brought him. The medics there are trying their best, but they don't seem to know what's wrong with him, and we can't tell them."

"Of course you can't…" Esmera shook her head and started walking fast out of the Dining Hall.

"Lady Esmera!" Glorfindel called. "Would you kindly tell me what is happening."

Esmera glanced at him with a worried frown. "It's one of the elflings. He is in withdrawal."

"Withdrawal from what?" the commander of Imladris asked.

"From Arcane energies," Esmera answered gravely. "A fatal condition if left untreated. Since we don't have a source of magic here in Endor, we have to 'scan' our bodies every week to make sure we haven't absorbed any impure energies. Especially elflings are vulnerable to absorbing impure energies, as their bodies can't fight it off."

They made it to the infirmary at that moment… and saw an Endorian elf trying to give the elfling some sort of liquid. Esmera panicked, and before she knew it, she had lashed out with magic.

"No!" she cried out and reached out with her magic. Pointing at the bottle with liquid, she whipped her hand to the side, and the bottle smashed into the wall, shattering into dozens of sharp pieces. "Stay away from him!"

Seeing his new friend's distress, Glorfindel repeated it in Sindarin, which the maid quickly listened to. He watched as Esmera walked over to the elfling – a very small boy – who was bathed in sweat and was writhing around. She checked his pulse, his breathing, and then she closed her eyes with her index-finger and middle-finger on his forehead.

"This is bad…" Esmera muttered when her green eyes opened again.

"What is going on here?" Lord Elrond's voice sounded from the entrance. "I heard that you were running through the hallways distressed."

"It's one of the elflings," Glorfindel answered his lord, and watched him pale slightly.

"This is going to be hard on him," Esmera muttered as she wiped his head with a cloth. She looked up at his mother, "Without the Sunwell there isn't any easy way to heal him, especially when he has progress so far into the Second Stage."

"So he is going to die!?" she cried out, tears flowing freely from her eyes. "Please, milady, do anything it takes to make him survive! He may be small, be he is strong!"

"Very well…" Esmera untied her necklace at which hung a small vial with water. She glanced up at the mother, "You realize what this is, do you not?"

"Yes- but…"

"It is the only way I know of healing him," Esmera told her.

Esmera heard Lord Elrond say something behind her, and a second later Glorfindel repeated it.

"Lady Esmera, what do you have in that vial?"

Said person glanced at the two elves of Imladris, "It's water from the First Well of Eternity. Now, please, be quiet."

She completely missed the stunned expressions as she drew the energy-filled waters out of the vial. She levitated it about twenty centimeters over the elf boy, and then she poured a tiny bit of her own magic into it. The reaction was instantaneously: energies so powerful that even Elrond and Glorfindel flooded the room.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** And that was chapter seven. I will admit that that I had originally planned to have one more scene in this chapter, but that would've made it too long in comparison to the rest of the story. I think it might fit better in the next chapter, perhaps as a mini flash-back. We'll see.

Rebel Out.


	9. Legacy of Azeroth

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Chapter Eight:** Legacy of Azeroth

* * *

Glorfindel glanced over at Esmera from his seat on the bench. It was in the middle of the morning and they were outside in one of the many gardens that were in Imladris; Glorfindel had nothing to do out there at this hour, but Esmera was there almost every morning meditating. The Endorian elf had joined the leader of the Azerothians a few times, bringing a book, but it wasn't always that wasn't always possible because of his schedule. And he truly did try to make it, because it was a nice relaxing time – him sitting with a book, and Esmera levitating a few inches above the grass with closed eyes and a serene expression.

Of course, the last few days had been slightly more tense when it came to the relationship between the elves of Imladris and the people of the Azeroth; it had been like that, since the sin'dorei child had fallen ill and Esmera had treated him with waters of the First Well of Eternity. The energy that had emanated from the small vial had been overwhelming – Glorfindel had thought he understood how powerful the First Well of Eternity and the Sunwell had been, but only then did he realize what kind of power they had contained: if a small vial of water had contained as much energy as it had, a lake full of it… it was almost unimaginable.

It had been troubling for Lord Elrond to know that a person in Imladris carried that kind of power – especially since the power wasn't predestined to be either good or evil. Like the power of the Azerothians, the power just was, and could be used for both purposes. However, it was just one small vial, and that alone wasn't what had made the relationship between the two people tense. No, the tension had only come after Esmera what she referred to Azeroth's Legacy.

_- Flashback –_

_Glorfindel watched as Esmera finally put the small globe of water back into the bottle, and put it around her neck again. She looked truly exhausted, and the commander of Imladris couldn't blame her; she had been standing over the sick elfling for a little over an hour, pouring the energies of the water through him. It pleased the Endorian elf that the elfling looked to be much better - if not just as exhausted. He wasn't covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the trembling had stopped, too. Now he simply lay there sleeping, his chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed. Esmera seemed to have reached the same conclusion, because a satisfied and relieved smile showed on her face as she stepped._

_The leader of the Azerothians didn't make it very far, however, as she almost tripped three steps after having started. One of the sin'dorei - and there were quite a few of them, about a dozen having arrived during the hour that Esmera had treated the elfling - close to her quickly caught her before she hit the floor. She smiled exhaustedly at him._

_"Thank you," she nodded. The male sin'dorei said something in return in Thalassian, and from what Glorfindel had learned, it was something along the lines of 'you are most welcome'. He helped her over to the neighboring bed for her to sit, before he walked to the wall standing guard - while keeping a concerned eye at what was clearly someone he admired a great deal._

_Glorfindel glanced at Lord Elrond who stood beside him. Conflicting emotions seemed to be battling for dominance on his aged elven face: there was a great concern for Esmera, but there was also fear of the power he had felt her manipulate to save the boy. Neither of the emotions were something Glorfindel could blame his lord for feeling - because he himself felt them as well._

_It was at that moment that Glorfindel and Lady Esmera's eyes met. He could all but see the thoughts flying through her head, before they settled on resignation and determination. Getting up, only slightly shaky, she walked over to stand in front of Lord Elrond and him. Looking first Lord Elrond in the eyes, and then Glorfindels'. She took a deep breath._

_"If you would follow me, please," she told them. "There is something you should both see." Glorfindel translated right away to Lord Elrond, as they both followed the leaders of the Azerothians out of the room. "You might have been wondering why it has taken us so long to find a proper location where we will found our new home. After all, Lord Elrond's location would have been ideal for anyone else. The answer to why we can't settle at those location is both simple and complicated. You have both just witnessed what my race - the sin'dorei - risk if we are not careful. Because how we exchange magic - energy - with our surroundings, we also contract the foul energies of the world. What we need to live without fearing to collapse like that child just did, is a fount of magic."_

_"Are you truly able to create such a fount?" Lord Elrond asked with furrowed brows. "And if you are... I'm not sure how I could not be concerned about it. I don't fear you and your people using it against us or any other people on Arda - you have proven that all you want is to live in peace. But... if the fount is created from waters like the one you used on that boy, the power will be all but unimaginable to anyone from our world. And it is very likely that the forces of Mordor will try to get their hands on it, to use it against us. Your magic is not like ours - it isn't inherited good. Glorfindel translated again._

_"You are correct in your statement that Arcane Energies are neither good nor evil - it just is. Holy energies, however..." Esmera answered as they stopped outside a tent. Four large guards stood outside of it - four Draenei - towering over the elves with at least a good meter. With a mere wave of her hand from Esmera they stepped aside for them to pass._

_Glorfindel was surprised by how dark the tent was - and almost empty. In each corner of the tent levitated a medium-sized stone with strange glowing runes upon them, all having the same distance to a large chest in the middle of the room. The chest was unlike anything Glorfindel had ever seen before - and for all he was worth, he was not able to locate the lock, nor the top. It was like the top and the bottom just was one piece._

_"What is this?" Glorfindel couldn't help but ask Esmera, whom by now he considered a good friend._

_"You will find out in a moment," she said to him as she looked gravely at him, and then Lord Elrond. "I understand that I cannot demand a vow of silence from either of you, but I ask you from the bottom of my heart that you do not tell anyone, but those you feel needs to absolutely know, of what you see here. My people's survival depends very much on this... We may be able to survive without it, but I doubt we will be able to live as a society without it. What you are about to see is the Legacy of Azeroth."_

_With that said she turned and waved for hand over the chest. A sequence of clicks could be heard before runes appeared on the chest as it flipped open. The second that it did, the Endorian elves had to shield their eyes, both because of the power that emanated from whatever was in the chest, but also because of the light. A few seconds later, after having adjusted to the light, Glorfindel and Elrond took a look at what was inside the chest. It was... slightly disappointing, if Glorfindel was honest. There was seven vials of water, and inside a cylinder a very small fleck of light levitated. After a moment Glorfindel realized that _that _little fleck of... whatever it was, was what produced all the light._

_"What is it?" Lord Elrond asked, and Glorfindel translated._

_"The seven vials contain water from the First Well of Eternity, and the small speck of light is the spark of a Naaru who was named A'dal," Esmera answered. Glorfindel's eyes widened at both the spark and the water. Esmera had told him what these Naaru was - immortal energy-beings of pure light -, and that a spark like that had been used to reignite the Sunwell after it's extinction. And the water... how she had gotten it was a mystery to him: according to Esmera, only seven vials was procured from the First Well of Eternity by some other Highborne - and all those had been used. So how did she have seven vials _more_ here?_

_Lord Elrond had same thoughts and asked the question._

_"When I was a part of the force that fought against the destruction of Azeroth at the hands of Deathwing, I along with four others were sent on a mission through time to retrieve an object that could help us defeat Deathwing. The time that I was sent to was just before the Sundering, while the First Well of Eternity was still active. While I was there Norzdormy, Aspect of Time, told me to retrieve these vials. He wouldn't tell me why, but he didn't need to - I was clever enough to heed the warning of one who knows what could possibly come to pass. The Bronze Dragonflight guarded the vials in this chest, created by the Blue Dragonflight to conceal whatever magic there may be inside it, until I started collecting people from around Azeroth for this expedition. That was when he handed me the chest back..."_

_"And the Naaru spark?" Glorfindel asked, after having translated for Elrond. Pain flashed across Esmera's face._

_"A'dal... He was... I guess so you could say he was a friend, kind of? The Naaru was hard to communicate with, but I know that I respected him a lot. When he heard of the impending attack of Azeroth, he traveled there from the Outlands to help in our defenses... He died defending the Sunwell, leaving a spark to the Draenei, which they then handed to the expedition to take with us to the new world - this world." Esmera glanced sadly at the light, "With A'dal's spark we will be able to infuse the new fond with holy magic, like the reignited Sunwell had - and that will prevent anyone evil from using its power."_

_"That is a relief to hear," Lord Elrond said, though Glorfindel could still spot the worry in his old friends face. If the Azerothians made this fond of power, not matter how small their numbers may be, they would be a force to be recognized. "Is this also why you haven't been able to find a suitable location yet?"_

_"Indeed it is," Esmera answered as she closed the chest again. "To make a new fond of magic, we don't only need a place to actually activate these waters, we also need the lay lines to be positioned correctly around said fond."_

_"Lay Lines?" Glorfindel asked._

_"How should I explain this...?" Esmera wondered for a moment. "Ok, you know how your blood veins distribute blood throughout your body? Lay Lines are like that with magic. Magic flows all over the world, but it follows the path of the Lay Lines. It's also around these Lay Lines that life truly flourishes - it should come to no surprise to you, then, that two medium-sized Lay Lines flows through Imladris. What my people need, is to find a place where a couple of these Lay Lines crossing over. If we don't, the energies that flow from the new fond of power will be halted, and it will never reach its full potential. Also, if we don't find Lay Lines, there will be no way that the energies will reach the rest of this world and help it flourish even more than it already does."_

_"Is there a reason you haven't told us this before?" Lord Elrond asked with a frown._

_"As I said, this is the _Legacy_ of Azeroth - our most precious artifacts," Esmera said gravely. "If you had known we carried such powerful things, would you truly had taken my people in?"_

_"I would," Elrond said. But after a pause, "I will admit, however, that there would be much tension between us."_

_- Flashback End -_

Glorfindel was intterupted from his musing when Esmera began to fidget, and then began to scream. An energy wave pushed him back as Esmera hit the grass, the plants around her withering before his eyes. She screamed louder and louder as energies swirled around her. A couple of guards came running, but as soon as they approached her, they were also hurled back. Thankfully they didn't sustain any serious injuries. And with a last powerful scream, a large wave of energy rolled off of Esmera, shattering the glass of many buildings around her. And then she just lay on the ground, panting heavily.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hope you liked the chapter. It explained a lot of how the Azerothians plan to survive on Middle Earth. Next chapter we will have another large event, from Esmera's point of view.

Rebel Out


	10. The Valar

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Author's Notes:** I just want to address something shortly, before the start of the chapter. I have gotten a few comments (again) about the length of the chapters… You are correct in that they are short compared to what happens in them – but that is intentional, sort of. This is simply a prequel to the story I've had in mind for some time, and to be frank, I want to be over the prequel already. I would take a wild guess and say there is about a third of the prequel left, and I will try to finish it as fast as possible.

Now, when the main story starts it will all change. The chapters will be longer, the 'depth' of the story will be… deeper, and I will be much more careful about the grammar.

There is a possibility that sometime in the future I will go back to rewrite the prequel, compacting the chapters and so on, but that won't happen for some time.

**Chapter Nine:** The Valar

* * *

Esmera looked groggily around trying to find her bearings. However, the moment her eyes opened she closed them again with a hiss: the room – or wherever she was – was so bright it hurt her eyes. With her eyes barely open she began, slowly but surely, to get off the ground to a sitting position.

The last thing she remembered was sitting in one of the gardens of Imladris doing her morning meditation. While it wasn't as important to her well-being as it was to the rest of her race due to her having a vial of water from the Well of Eternity, it was something that had been hard-drilled into her back on Azeroth. And it was important for sin'dorei without a fond of power near them to meditate – if not, they risked mutating and degenerating into one of the Wretched.

Her meditation had been interrupted by something _grabbing _her. It wasn't anything physical that had grabbed her; a great magical force had come from nowhere and squeezed her very core, trying to rip her consciousness from her body. Her magic had fought back right away, trying to protect its host, but it had been to no avail; in the end the foreign force had won the struggle, and she had felt the last grasp she had on her body slip from her mental fingers.

This was also why Esmera was very wondering why she had a body here. She know she wasn't dead – the foreign force hadn't killed her, but simply wrestled her conscious mind from her body –, though if her mind didn't return to her body, she would die. If she was to take a guess, it would be that this 'body' was just an illusion or memory of her real body. She didn't know if it was her own doing, something her mind had conjured up to make sense of being away from her body, or maybe it was something the foreign force had done. Esmera was inclined to believe the first thing – after all, ghosts back on Azeroth, which was basically the mind and spirit of the deceased, also took on forms which vaguely resembled their living body.

But… if she wasn't in her body, it meant that all physical responses she had got since she had awoken was simply illusions, and she should be able to get rid of it. With that in in mind she opened her eyes to the light. While it was bright, it didn't hurt anymore, and soon enough she could look around. Her eyes widened at what she saw in the enormous golden hall she was sitting in.

In front of eight gold thrones standing in a semi-circle, all of them decorated with all sorts of precious gems, stood eight enormous beings. They were easily a dozen times larger than her, and unbelievable beautiful. One glance at their forms and their radiance, and Esmera knew who she was sitting in front of: the Aratar – the Holy Ones of Arda. While she didn't know who were who, from her conversations with Glorfindel she knew their names – or rather the names that the Endorian Elves had given them: Manwë, Varda, Ulmo, Yavanna, Aulë, Mandos, Nienna, and Oromë.

Realizing she was still sitting down, and actually slightly gaping at the most powerful of all the great creators of Arda, Esmera quickly stood up and bowed deeply to all of them.

"Esmera Sunflower of Azeroth, leader of your people," one of the male voices spoke. Spoke might be a wrong term as she didn't actually have ears to hear with at this moment; his voice vibrated the whole room, as words flowed into her mind to form the sentence. Esmera looked up at the one who spoke, not really sure what to make of his indifferent expression. "I am Manwë, and this is the council of Aratar." And with that he presented each of the Vala.

"I-It's an honor to meet you, milord," Esmera stammered out. "For what purpose have you summoned me here?" She thought it best not to mention the rather violently and painfully way they had done it in. Though, if they were anything near as powerful as she made them to be, they would know everything she thought. She grimaced mentally at that thought.

"We have summoned you here to pass judgment on you and your people," Varda said gravely with her beautiful voice. Esmera still wondered how she could actually hear the voices and differentiate between them. But that was not something to worry about now – because what she said made her stomach twist with worry. It wasn't worry for her own life: she had been in more life-or-dead situations than she could count, and by now she must've used up whatever luck she had. No, she was worried about the people she lead – her people.

"Judgment?" Esmera asked in small voice.

"You have passed onto our realm, Arda, with plans of adding something not anticipated by the Creator. We have observed you since Glorfindel of Imladris found you, and we see great power within your people. Great power with a hint of taint," Aulë said with a frown. "You carry the energies of our brothers and sisters of the elder universe, energies which can be used for evil. Your plans of using these 'holy energies' will prevent Melkor's creations from using it, but if they find a way to destroy this new fond of power, the same will happen to Arda which happened to Azeroth in ancient times."

"We have observed and we are almost ready to pass our judgment. We still need to question you, leader of the Azerothians," Mandos said in a booming voice as old as time.

"Your brothers and sisters…?" Esmera asked with wide eyes. "Are you related to the Titans? Aman'Thul, Eonar, Norgannon, Golganneth, Khaz'goroth, and Aggramar?"

"We once were," answered Yavanna. "Before the creation of the universe we were one people. However, our philosophies differentiated; whereas we believed that life should be monitored and guided to prevent evil, the Titans believed that they should only start life and leave it to their own accord. Our peoples' father, Eru Ilúvatar, saw the good in each of our philosophies and created a universe for each of us."

"May I ask why you have only summoned me now? If you have been observing us for weeks, why not intervene earlier?" Esmera asked.

It was Ulmo who answered. "It is only in the last few days that we discovered your intentions of creation a new fond of power. The casing in which you keep the energy-waters conceals them, and we are not able to look through it. It resonates with Norgannon's powers that rival our own."

"What will happen if you deem my people unworthy?" Esmera asked as she closed her eyes in concern.

"You will be eliminated," Manwë answered plainly. "You will now be questioned."

And that's how it started – they wanted to know everything. Esmera had little choice of giving them what they wanted, as they all hovered at the edge of her mind. However, as it was, she didn't hold anything back; if the Azerothians wanted to live in peace on Arda, they had to gain the favor of its gods. And as far as she had heard, the Valar was far from bad gods. They didn't expect worship or sacrifices or anything like that, they simply watched over all of what was on Arda – well, anything but Melkor's creations. They had a few rules that they did not allow anyone to break, and those rules all concerned those who came to Valinor.

Manwë was tall – as were the rest of him, but he towered over them with at least a couple of meters – and had hair as a starless night. His eyes were a deep brown, almost black, but somehow carried some light in them. He was the leader the stories of Imladris made him out to be and more: A great and firm leader with compassion for the Firstborn and Secondborn, and even the children of Aulë. Esmera could understand why her people, and their intentions, would concern him greatly. If the Azerothians wanted, they could really screw up things with how much power they would get from a fond of energy made from _seven_ vials of water from the First Well of Eternity. Esmera wasn't sure how powerful that new fond would be, as the Sunwell was created with a mere three vials.

Varda was the light to her spouse's darkness. While her hair also was black, whereas Manwë's hair was as a starless night, her hair was as a starlit night. Her whole body shone with light, and Esmera was in awe of her beauty. Her face held concern not only for the Elves and Men of Endor, but also for the fate of the Azerothians. That was when the leader of the Azerothians understood why Varda was the dearest of the Valar to the elves.

Then there was Ulmo, standing in shadow and barely visible. But what Esmera could see filled her with dread, though she didn't understand. He was truly fearful to look upon, dressed like a giant wave in glittering green armor. As his eyes shifted slightly in her direction, she quickly looked away.

Yavanna and Aulë stood close by each other. Esmera struggled not to smile in such a tense situations as the undying and immortal love between them was all but visible. The same could be said for Manwë and Varda, but theirs was a lot more restrained – like royalty. Yavanna and Aulë would without looking at each other somehow let the other know how much they loved each other. Perhaps it was just because Esmera was connected to but a fraction of their minds that she could feel it. Compared to the rest of the Valar, the two of them were rugged – though, they were still a thousand fold more beautiful than any other beings not of the Valar. Yavanna's hair looked to be something akin to gnarled roots, and Aulë's arms seemed way to large. Still, they were to be respected.

The siblings Mandos and Nienna looked like the identical but their different genders. Regal with high cheekbones and startling green eyes to their autumn-red hair. Their expressions couldn't be more different, though, as Mandos' face was passive as if he hadn't decided yet, and Nienna's face had a great sorrow as if she already knew their fate. Neither took their eyes of her for more than a few seconds at a time, and never at the same time.

Lastly there was Oromë, who was clad in a battle-worn golden armor. His hair was blindingly white and his eyes silver. With his bow slung over his left shoulder, just looking at him put great humility into Esmera.

They all took turns asking her questions, followed by them debating greatly with each other – though Esmera couldn't understand a word of the debate. Esmera didn't know how long she had been there – it could be hours, days, or even weeks. And she didn't mind – much – for it meant that her people wasn't doomed. She would do _anything_ for her people to survive. Well, anything but actually allying with anything remotely like the Burning Legion. If she had to, she would give up her very soul to the Valar.

"… how can we be sure that with your great power, that you won't ally yourself with Melkor's forces?" Mandos asked.

Esmera's eyes flashed to him, and for the first time she felt offended. Very much so, in fact. Taking a deep breath, she said with the greatest respect she could muster, "I understand that you have to ask these questions, but after everything you have learned about my people, how can you believe that we will support Melkor? Our world is destroyed because of the same kind of evil Melkor's creations carry. The draenei has fled for them for millennia, and has seen not one but three worlds fall to the Burning Legion. The Azerothian orcs' culture was shattered beyond recognition when they were enslaved when they still lived on Draenor. The kaldorei saw their society fall because the Burning Legion corrupted Queen Azshara, and the quel'dorei were slaughtered by the Burning Legion's scourge. And we sin'dorei has felt fel-energies in our very souls, trying to turn us to the very thing that destroyed our home – but we overcame it and we are stronger because we know what we fight against. There isn't a single individual under me who would betray what we have lost for power. When the time comes, we will stand and fight – and if necessary, fall with the other people of Arda."

The Valar murmured to themselves, before Oromë turned to Manwë. "Perhaps we should question another of the Azerothians to be sure?"

"Please, no," Esmera exclaimed. They all looked at her, and she gulped. "I understand why you summoned me here, but it was far from a pleasant experience. You may question me for all of eternity, rip my mind apart to find the answers you look for, but please don't do it to anyone that follows me. All they want is peace."

"Do not worry, brave one," Varda said with a calming smile. She turned to Oromë, "We will not take anyone else to question, my friend. I know your concerns, but just because you didn't got the answers you wanted, does not mean that you can ignore them." Oromë's lips thinned into a slim line, and he nodded tensely.

Manwë looked around on the other of the Aratar, each of them nodding back to him. He then looked at the Child of the Titans in front of him. Esmera stood straighter, knowing the moment had come. As his lips moved and he told his verdict, everything became white around Esmera, until all there was, was white. And like a rubber-band that had been stretched too far, she felt herself snap back to her body.

Slowly her eyes fluttered open. She noticed right away that she wasn't in the garden anymore, but in a healing room. Everything was fuzzy and she felt weaker than she had ever felt – even weaker than when she was cut off from the Sunwell when it was shut off. A large blue silhouette moved into her view, soon taking on enough detail to show Esmera an extremely worried Javad. And Esmera smiled weakly at him, saying one thing before nodding off.

"We have their blessing."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hoped you liked this chapter. It was interesting to write, and I tried to make it 'realisitc'.

There aren't many chapters left, and only one or two left to take place in Rivendell. The prequel is soon ending, and I'm truly looking forward to it.

Rebel Out


	11. Shattering Windows

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the settings or characters used in the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series, written by J. R. R. Tolkien. Neither do I own the races or characters from the Warcraft universe created by Blizzard Entertainment. I only own the original characters.

_**In a New World**_

**Chapter Ten:** Shattering Windows

* * *

Lord Elrond had been sitting in his office looking through a report from King Thranduil. The King of the Woodland Realm described an increasing darkness in the southern part of the forest, darkness which were spreading to the trees and water and giving birth to monstrous animals. Rumors ran about of a necromancer of a sort taking over the ruined stronghold of Dol Guldur. It was very worrying, and just another sign that darkness in Middle Earth didn't just survive anymore – it was beginning to thrive. Almost desperately Lord Elrond hoped that the rumors of this necromancer might be true, and that he was the source of the growing evil… if not, the source might be something much worse, something Lord Elrond hoped had been vanquished over a millennia ago. He let out a troubled sigh.

"Is something amiss?" Celebrían asked from her seat in the corner. Lord Elrond looked up from his report at his loving spouse; she spent every morning with him in the office, just reading quietly in the corner. They didn't get to talk much in the mornings, but just being in each other presence was something Lord Elrond wouldn't trade for all the gems of the world.

"Thranduil reports of growing darkness in Mirkwood," Elrond admitted with a frown. "And rumors of a necromancer in Dol Guldur are about. I can't help but hope for them to be true, lest an even more powerful foe might be about."

"That is troubling indeed," Celebrían admitted in a worried tone. "It seems so long ago since we haven't heard of trouble from east of Hithaeglir."

"Indeed." Elrond rose from his seat and walked to look out the window. "The Golden Woods should remain safe by Galadriel's hand wielding Nenya. Mirkwood, however, seems to grow darker and darker as each season pass. Thranduil doesn't have any powers other than that of the men under him to keep the evil at bay."

"Have you seen something?" Celebrían asked as she rose and walked over to him, caressing him hand slightly. He turned to look her in the eye, love and adoration as visible as the fear and worry was.

"I see… death and darkness. Creatures of Melkor roaming the land freely. The elves of Mirkwood retreating from the southern part of the forest, only just holding the northern part. I see the end of our people in Middle Earth. And I see many futures of Middle Earth, very few of them with a bright day of tomorrow. I can't see what's spreading the darkness, but whatever it is, it is powerful."

"What of Imladris?" the Lady of Imladris inquired. "What of our home?"

"Imladris stand proud in all the vision I have seen, but it is not without trials itself. I can't tell if it will be next year or in a hundred years, but Angmar won't stay idle for long. They seek the destruction of Arthedain, and they know that Rivendell will come to its aid when they call for it."

Lord Elrond was about to say something when he felt something. Vibrations. He frowned and looked at a glass-phial of wine on his table; after a few seconds it started slosh slowly but surely around. He looked at his spouse who was also looking at the phial.

"Did you feel-" Elrond started but was interrupted as the window shattered, and a fraction of a second later a wave of energy washed over him. He became aware that a great many buildings had lost their windows also. Nothing in Imladris could cause that – only the Azerothians had the power in them to cause something like this. But he knew they were a responsible people… that left that something had gone wrong.

"Something is not right," Celebrían stated worried.

"Indeed…" Elrond muttered. He turned around and started to walk towards the door, "Please stay here until we know what is going on. I will send a guard with information as soon as I have it."

Celebrían looked as if she was going to argue for a moment – she was perfectly capable of not getting into trouble in her own home! –, but the pleading look Elrond was sending her made her sigh and agree, and she sat down in her chair in the corner once again. She couldn't blame her husband for being overprotective: it was only four centuries since the Queen of, then, Greenwood had been attacked and killed on route to Lothlórien. That was the moment that the elves, too, began calling Greenwood the Great Mirkwood, as the humans had done for almost a century beforehand.

Lord Elrond was relieved to see his wife, however reluctantly, agree to his request. She had the spirit of her mother, and had given the same spirit to their daughter, Elrond thought with a small smile. Elrond shook those thoughts from his head as he closed the door to his office behind him, and began walking briskly down the hallway. He had only made it halfway down before a guard came running towards him, a very concerned look upon his face.

"Lord Elrond!" the guard called. "You are needed in the Healing Ward!" The Lord of Imladris felt his stomach knot slightly as he heard that. Something truly was wrong – hopefully it wasn't another of the Azerothian elflings.

"Who is hurt?" Lord Elrond asked as he continued down the hall, now heading towards the Ward. "And do you know what caused the energy wave?"

"It's Lady Esmera, milord," the guard answered. Elrond looked sharply towards him, causing the guard to flinch away. "And I do not know what caused the energy wave. I suspect that it is why Lady Esmera is in the Ward – two guards are with her with minor bruises from one of the first energy waves. Glorfindel is also there, and he is rather distraught."

"There were more than one wave?"

"Yes, milord, as far as I know," the guard answered. "It was only the last one that was truly powerful. It shattered the windows in a great part of Imladris – we don't have the exact numbers yet, however."

"That is alright. Right now let's just make sure no-one is hurt," Lord Elrond said. The guard nodded and followed behind his Lord.

While Elrond didn't show it, he was rather worried. He didn't know Lady Esmera that well yet – that was to expected when they had only known each other for a short a time as they had –, he had come to respect her a great deal, even after he found out she had kept something from him. He didn't blame her keeping the Legacy of Azeroth a secret, as he would have done the same had he been in her stead. She was a powerful leader that cared endlessly for her people. And while she hadn't said it, he didn't doubt there was very little she wouldn't do for the survival of her people.

Given enough time, Elrond could imagine her becoming a good friend. Something he hoped for, actually, as that would create some ties between her and Imladris – yes, he did also think like a leader: he had to.

This was also why he became very concerned when he entered the Healing Ward and saw Lady Esmera lay very still on top of a bed. No movement was seen but the shallow rising and falling of her chest, indicating that she was at least breathing. Around her bed stood Glorfindel, showing more emotion than Elrond had seen him show since he arrived in Imladris, and the giant form of Javad the draenei.

It was Glorfindel who spotted him first, and straightened slightly, "Lord Elrond."

"Glorfindel," Elrond greeted, only just glancing at him. He walked fast over to the bed and started checking her pulse. "What happened?"

"I do not know," Glorfindel said looking at Esmera with frightened eyes. "She was meditating in the same garden she does every morning, and I was reading beside her. Then suddenly she started screaming; the plants around her withered up in front of my eyes, and pulses of energy started to emanate from her. After about thirty seconds of her trashing, the pulses preventing anyone from getting close, one giant pulse was expelled and she lay still on the earth."

Javad spoke up in his deep booming voice, which matched his equally bulky form. "Is… Lady… unsick? Was… become… good?" The Sindarin tongue was broken, and it could hardly be called a whole sentence, but the message got across the language barrier. He wanted to know if his leader was all right.

"I do not know," Lord Elrond said slowly, hoping to make Javad understand. "As far as I can see, there is nothing wrong with her. She is as healthy as she has ever been. She just isn't conscious."

Javad had looked back and forward between Esmera and Elrond as he spoke. His eyes squinted in concentration as he did his best to make meaning of the words that left Elrond's lips. He might not understand every word, but he nodded tensely when Elrond stopped talking, showing the Lord of Imladris that the draenei had at least grasped the essence of what he had just said.

Lord Elrond glanced at his old friend once again. "You didn't see anything else before she started screaming?"

"Nothing," Glorfindel confirmed. "One moment everything was fine, and the next she is trashing about."

Elrond frowned deeply: he could find _nothing_ wrong with the sin'dorei, other than she wasn't conscious. Her pulse was steady, her breathing strong, her temperature in the norm for a sin'dorei (which actually was a few degrees warmer than the elves of Arda). He forced her eyelid open to examine that; the same green glow was present with the same intensity. Her pale eyes behind the glow wasn't bloodshot, and her white pupil and iris reacted as they should. Elrond grabbed her wrist, squeezed it for a few seconds and then let go, and saw that the blood flow was also in the norms.

He could find nothing wrong with her. And that scared her.

His head snapped up when the door was slammed upon. It was one of the sin'dorei. And he looked very worried, something that increased tenfold when he saw his leader lay motionless on the bed. Quickly he began bombarding Elrond with question, though he must know that Elrond couldn't understand him. When the blood elf began getting a bit too excited, Javad stepped in and talked calmly to him – though it was clear that the blue humanoid was just as, if not even more, worried about Esmera. Elrond had seen how much time the two had spend together, and had deduced that they must be very close friends.

From the tone of Javad's voice, it sounded like to Elrond that he was asking the male elf something. When the elf didn't answer, Javad asked again a bit more forcefully. Very hesitantly the elf nodded before walking out of the room, throwing one desperate look at Elrond. The Lord of Imladris didn't have to speak Thalassian to know what was meant there: '_Please take care of her!_' Javad slowly walked back to the bedside, sitting on a chair – the chair only creaking slightly under the weight of the large draenei.

Lord Elrond used the next hour standing over the leader of the Azerothians – during which he had sent a guard to tell his wife of what was happening –, trying to find _anything_ wrong with her, but to no avail. If it wasn't for the circumstances, he would actually be impressed with her health, especially after the vague stories he had heard of her time in this 'Horde's' army. There was a scar here and there, but other than that, her skin was flawless. A small part of him couldn't wait till Imladris and the Azerothians had established a friendship, so he could start learning of their way of healing – especially if it would leave this little scarring. But then again, for all he knew it could just be an ability that the Azerothian elves had.

"There is nothing more I can do at this moment," Elrond finally sighed after having checked Esmera over for the umpteenth time. Turning to a healer he said, "Monitor her closely, and if anything changes – and I mean _anything_ – then send for me."

"Yes, milord," the healer bowed.

Elrond was about to walk out of the room, when he looked back to see if Glorfindel would follow. The Balrog-slaying elf shook his head, "I think I'm going to stay here for now."

"Very well," Elrond inclined his head and continued out onto the hallway. He couldn't be prepared for what he saw out there; the whole of the hallway was filled with all manners of Azerothians, from the sin'dorei who looked like the Endorian elves, to these tauren, trolls, and orcs – that they shared name with some of the monsters of Arda still irked Elrond slightly, but he knew for a fact that they were completely separated races. It was the first time that Elrond had seen so many of them out of the eastern part of Imladris. They were all standing with solemn expressions, talking quietly to each other in the Thalassian tongue, a few of them glancing at the door to the Healing Wards with concern from time to time. As he was noticed by them, the whole crowd quieted and looked intensely at him, the same question burning behind each and every eye: they wanted to know if their leader was well.

Sighing, Lord Elrond shook his slightly, without seeming too worried – after all, he didn't want to make them think that she was dead, as that was far from the case. As he had found out, the leader of the Azerothians was very healthy indeed.

"Ada?" Elrond turned and saw Arwen walking towards him.

"Undómiel? What are you doing here?" he asked surprised.

"I was with the children," the Evenstar answered motioned behind her where Elrond spotted the children his daughter had been spending a great deal of time with. "We were in the Eastern City – they wanted to show me some of the pictures of Azeroth that their people brought with them – when all of the sin'dorei froze like one and looked towards the city. There was a lot of talking, and one of the guards ran into the city. He came back not ten minutes later, speaking rapidly. I don't know what he said, but several people gasped, and everyone seemed to become very worried. Then many simply dropped what they were doing and walked fast over here." Arwen looked intently into her father's grey eyes, "Has something happened?"

"Lady Esmera dropped unconscious a little over an hour ago," Lord Elrond answered his daughter, making her intake a sharp breath. "Whatever did that to her also made her expel a great deal of magic, which is most likely what the sin'dorei sensed. I have looked her over, but I can find nothing wrong with her besides her not being able to regain consciousness."

"I guess that makes sense," Arwen said with a frown as she looked around. At her father's inquisitive look, she explained, "You must have learned by now just how hardy a people they are: There isn't much that would worry them. The wellbeing of their leader is one of the few things that can truly put them into a near-panic state… I have never seen anyone look up to someone, the way that these people look up to Lady Esmera."

Lord Elrond smiled at his daughter. "From what we've heard that she has done for them, it doesn't surprise me. And I dare say we haven't heard half of it, since the stories we've heard so far is from Esmera herself. Despite how many looks to her, she is awfully humble."

Arwen was about to say something when she was interrupted by Glorfindel who burst out of the Healing Wards.

"Lord Elrond! Esmera, she is awake!" he gasped out. Lord Elrond didn't waste a second, but walked straight into the Wards. He frowned when he saw a still unconscious Esmera lay on her bed. He turned to look at Glorfindel. "She was awake briefly a few seconds ago! She said 'We have their blessing.'… You don't think that…?" As Glorfindel said that, Lord Elrond relaxed immediately. He could only think of a handful of beings that could wrestle a mind out of the body; Melkor's creations and the Valar. From what Esmera had just said, it was clear that 'someone' had done this to her. And since she was back in her body, it must've been the Valar.

"Yes, I do," Elrond answered with a smile. "She should be fine. Still, monitor her if anything should take a turn for the worse."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hope you liked the chapter. As I've said, we're nearing the end of the prequel! Next chapter it will be revealed where the Azerothians will settle, including what they plan to do. There will then be a small time skip, then the creations of their new fond of power.

Rebel Out

**Sindarin Translation**

Hithaeglir – Misty Mountains, hîth (mist) + aeglir (range of mountain peaks)

Nenya – one of the rings of power, worn by Galadriel

Ada – Daddy/Father (informal)

Undómiel - Evenstar


	12. May he Rest in Peace

I am sad to tell everyone that as of the 5th of May 2014, at 22:54 CET, StormyRebel passed away after having been in a car accident. I know he will be missed on this site for his stories, as he will be missed in the real world for his person.

This is his younger sister, April, who is writing this. I helped Joachim - known to you as StormyRebel - talk about his stories and their plot, and helped him upload if he was out of town and not near a computer. I know a lot of you have been looking forward for new chapters, especially The Red Tempest of Konoha. I know I will never be able to reach his level in the story, but I will try my best at some point. For now, however, I cannot bear to continue his work, and I honestly don't know if I ever will.

If I am to continue his work, it will not be on this account. I will let this, with the stories on them, stand as a testament to him.

My brother was a firm atheist, and didn't believe in anything. We shared the mindset, however, that we as humans didn't know everything, and it was possible that there are higher beings out there. If there are, I hope that they will watch over him.

May he rest in peace.


End file.
